Breakdowns and Breakthroughs
by RELvox
Summary: I can't really summarize this without giving the plot away, but it deals with a trauma in Santana's past. It might be a little triggery, but you should give it a shot. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

It had been just over a month since Santana and Rachel had started dating and, so far, things were going really smoothly. To her credit, Santana had mostly stopped making fun of Rachel. It still happened once in a while, but the tone of the teasing had become much more playful and, to be honest, Rachel didn't really mind it.

Rachel, for her part, was becoming much more confident in her ability to stand up to bullying. Granted, she hadn't been slushied since Santana had made it crystal clear to the entire McKinley population that it wasn't to happen ever again. But, if something happened behind Santana's back, Rachel was pretty sure she could handle it herself.

Surprisingly, Santana hadn't wanted to hide their relationship. In fact, the day after they had made it official, Santana went up to Rachel in the cafeteria, kissed her soundly, and then walked to grab a tray with a smirk on her face. Rachel blushed and looked around the table at the rest of the Glee club, trying to gauge their reactions. After a moment of processing, Puck high fived Rachel and conversation picked up normally.

Brittany, however, did not look happy. As Santana came back to the table with her food, the blonde sighed, got up, and walked away.

"Is she…okay?" Rachel asked as she moved over to make room for her girlfriend.

"She's fine," Santana said, watching silently as Brittany disappeared into the hallway.

…

After a few weeks, Santana and Rachel had become fairly inseparable. Santana would pick Rachel up from school and carry her books to each class. They spent the weekends together as well as almost every day after school.

Thankfully, Rachel had instituted mandatory studying hours to ensure that they didn't fail every single class.

"This is stupid," Santana said, leaning back in Rachel's desk chair and stretching like a cat.

"Studying isn't stupid, Santana," Rachel replied, rolling her eyes.

"It is when I could be kissing you instead," Santana said, standing up and walking over to Rachel, who was reclining on the bed. "You don't need this right now," she whispered, taking the book out of Rachel's hand and placing it neatly next to her.

"Oh?" Rachel responded, her voice dropping slightly. "What do I need?"

"Me," Santana said, climbing on top of Rachel and straddling her. "This," she said, bending down to brush their lips together.

"I need you," Rachel whispered, threading her fingers in Santana's hair and pulling her down roughly. "But not like this."

Before Santana had time to process the statement, Rachel had flipped their positions and had Santana's arms pinned over her head against the pillow.

Santana paled. "Rachel, I…" she paused, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to smile. "I want to feel you underneath me."

With that, Santana pushed Rachel down and climbed back on top. Before Rachel could argue, she felt Santana's fingers moving under her shirt.

"I want to be able to do this," Santana said, pulling the shirt off. "And this," she said, snapping the front clasp of Rachel's bra open. "And this," she whispered, rolling Rachel's nipples expertly with her fingertips before taking one between her teeth.

Understandably, Rachel began to enjoy being on the bottom a great deal.

That night, Santana took Rachel's virginity.

…

The following week at school was hard. Really hard. Even though Rachel was still kind of aching between her legs, all she wanted was to feel Santana's skin against hers. Though they had spent every night together since their first time, it was taking all of Rachel's will power not to pounce on Santana every single time they passed each other in the halls. By the end of the day on Friday, the hormones were wreaking havoc on Rachel's body and, when Santana winked at her as she walked past her with Brittany, she just lost it.

With a growl, she grabbed Santana's arm, pulled her backwards, and shoved her against the lockers. Santana's eyes widened when Rachel gripped her hips tightly and crashed their lips together.

Before she knew what was happening, Rachel felt hands forcefully pulling her off of Santana.

"Brittany, what are you doing?" Rachel yelled, spinning around and looking incredulously at the blonde.

"What the hell are _you_ doing?" Brittany hissed, poking her finger into Rachel's chest and walking forward until the brunette's back hit the locker.

"Listen, Brittany," Rachel started, anger seeping through her voice. "I understand that Santana hasn't been around as much for you, and that you might blame me for that, but what you just did is _completely_ inappropriate!"

Brittany's eyes narrowed. "What _I_ did? Jesus Christ, Rachel, you have no idea what you're doing!"

"I was kissing my girlfriend, before you interrupted me!"

"Kissing her? Rachel, you were _terrifying_ her!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Rachel yelled. "We kiss every day!"

"Not like that, you don't," Brittany said, invading Rachel's personal space. "Rachel, look at Santana. Just look at her."

With a frustrated groan, Rachel turned and looked at her girlfriend. Immediately, her features softened. Santana hadn't moved an inch. Her body was pressed tightly against the metal of the lockers, her eyes wide and her chest heaving.

"Santana, what's wrong?" Rachel asked, gently tucking a strand of hair behind Santana's ear. When Santana flinched, Rachel turned to Brittany.

"What's happening?"

Brittany sighed, and stepped in front of Santana and placed her hands on her cheeks. Santana sighed, her body visibly relaxing.

"You need to talk to her Santana," she said, when brown eyes finally met hers. "She needs to know."

Taking a deep breath, Santana nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, here's part two. Since the next three parts are really short, I'll post them all together. Just because I love you all that much. Please keep letting me know what you think. Your reviews are awesome. **

Santana's heart was rattling in her ribcage as she pulled out of the school's parking lot. She had been positive that Rachel would immediately barrage her with questions but, thankfully, her girlfriend sat quietly, chewing on her nails as Santana drove. Normally, Santana would have made a sarcastic quip to break the tension but she found that she couldn't bring herself to make a sound.

They rode in silence for rest of the trip.

When Santana parked the car in front of Rachel's house, the girls sat there motionless.

Rachel didn't know what to say.

Santana didn't know where to start.

After a few minutes, Rachel turned to Santana, bringing her hand up to caress her cheek. When Santana flinched, Rachel's eyes widened and she dropped her hand.

"I'm sorry," Santana said quickly, reaching for Rachel's hand and bringing it back to her face. "You…surprised me, that's all. You just surprised me."

"I'm going to go inside," Rachel said, sighing as she skimmed her thumb across Santana's cheek bone. "I'd love for you to come in with me, but I understand if you need time."

Rachel softly kissed Santana's palm, and got out of the car.

"I want to come in with you," Santana said, just as Rachel was about to close the door. "I want to come in with you, but I just…I need time to figure out what to say."

Rachel nodded, closed the door, and walked around the car to open Santana's door.

"If we're going to make this work, we'll have to talk about it eventually," Rachel said, kneeling on the ground next to her girlfriend. "But it doesn't have to be now."

"Thank you," Santana whispered, leaning over and kissing Rachel gently on the cheek.

Rachel smiled sadly, then closed the driver side door and walked into her house.

...

Santana had planned on driving home, but somehow her body just wouldn't move. Instead, she sat in the Berry's driveway as night fell, feeling the darkness fall around her like a blanket. She watched through the windows as Rachel sat down with her fathers for dinner and then, an hour or so later, as they cleaned the dishes. They were singing. Santana couldn't tell what, but Rachel's face only lit up like that when she was singing. Closing her eyes for a moment, Santana willed herself to hear. But, of course, she couldn't.

She had wanted so badly to never have to discuss this with Rachel, to pretend that it had never happened. What was she supposed to say? That she was broken? That the strongest, bitchiest girl in school was…just a shell?

When Santana opened her eyes again, she looked into Rachel's house and felt like she was at the aquarium, pressing her nose up to the tank and imagining a life she'd never have.

With a deep sigh, she turned the ignition in her car and pulled out of Rachel's driveway.

Upstairs, from behind a curtain, Rachel watched her drive away.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the night was agonizing for Rachel. She stayed up for hours, checking her phone constantly, willing it to ring. Eventually, around the time the sun was rising, she finally fell asleep.

When Rachel woke up, only a few hours latershe Rachel threw the covers off and reached for her phone. her heart falling when she saw the clear screen. No messages. The air in her lungs suddenly felt heavier.

With a deep sigh, Rachel went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and then went downstairs. When she arrived in the living room, her fathers were putting their coats on.

"Oh, I just wrote you a note," Rachel's father, Michael, said. "We didn't expect you to be up for a while."

"I couldn't sleep," Rachel said, slumping down onto the sofa.

"Well, take it easy today. Is Santana coming over?"

"I hope so," Rachel said. "But I don't think so."

"Did you two have a fight?" Rachel's dad, Irving, asked.

"To be honest, I'm not sure."

"Women," Michael joked, rolling his eyes. When Rachel didn't crack a smile, he sat down next to her. "Hey, kid. Whatever happened, you two will work it out."

"I hope you're right," Rachel whispered, leaning onto his shoulder and closing her eyes. "I really do."

"Do you want us to stay home?" Michael asked, sitting on the other side of his daughter.

"No, I'm sure I'll be fine. I have tons of homework to do," Rachel said. "Where are you going, anyway?"

"Your father got a last minute call this morning from a client in Columbus, so we decided to make a weekend of it," Irving said. "But if you aren't feeling well, I can stay home."

"You should go," Rachel said, smiling at her fathers. They never got to spend time together, just them. "I'll be fine. Really."

"Are you sure?" Michael asked.

"Yeah, go ahead."

Irving smiled, kissed Rachel on the forehead, and grabbed his bag. With one last glance at Rachel, Michael followed. A few minutes later they were gone and Rachel was alone.

…

Rachel spent the rest of the morning attempting to focus on homework but every time she closed her eyes, even just to blink, all she could see was Santana frozen in terror against her locker. She couldn't escape it.

She spent the afternoon laying on her bed in the dark, clutching her cell phone tightly, replaying the images of Santana driving away from her house like some melancholy black and white movie, blinking and broken.

She cried for her girlfriend. She cried over something she knew nothing about.

By the evening, Rachel felt hollow and empty, like somebody had stuck a tube in her and pulled out all the water, all the air. She had long since stopped checking her phone and email for messages.

When she idly realized that she hadn't yet eaten, Rachel walked downstairs to the kitchen and got an apple out of the fridge. She wasn't hungry, but it was something to do, something to distract her.

She took a bite and put the apple down on the table as the taste of the fruit danced across her tongue. She swallowed thickly and almost immediately felt nauseous.

Rachel was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn't hear it when her phone beeped. She opened her phone cautiously and stared at the message.

_So sorry I've been MIA. Needed time to think. Can I come over? –S_

Rachel wanted to be excited, she really did, but she couldn't help the fear that threatened to overflow when she exhaled deeply.

_Of course. Dads are out of town. - R _

Rachel took a deep breath. All she could do now was wait and pray that she hadn't just invited Santana over for the last time.

_Be there in ten. - S_


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's part 4. The next chapter won't be coming until sometime tomorrow. Sorry for the suspense :) Please Review.**

When the doorbell rang, Rachel walked slowly to answer it, taking a deep breath as she rested her hand on the doorknob for a moment and then opened the door.

Rachel caught the briefest glimpse of tear tracks against caramel skin just before Santana bounded into her arms, nearly knocking her to the ground.

"I'm so sorry," Santana whispered, clutching onto Rachel, fisting her hands in fabric. "I'm so so sorry."

"I…it's okay," Rachel said, stiffening slightly before relaxing into the embrace and rubbing her hands up and down Santana's back.

"I'm sorry," Santana repeated, letting out a deep sob and tightening her grip. "I just…I needed to talk to Brittany. I didn't know what to tell you."

"Do you know now?" Rachel whispered, reluctantly easing away from her girlfriend, trying desperately to keep her heart from thudding out of her chest and onto the floor.

Haphazardly, Santana wiped the tears off her face and nodded.

"Let's go upstairs," Rachel said, somehow simultaneously savoring and dreading the fact that she didn't know what was about to happen.

…

"You have to tell her the truth," Brittany said, wrapping her arms around Santana from behind as they lay together the bed that they had shared since they were children. "All of it."

"I can't," Santana hissed, then sighed, forcing herself to calm down as she curled deeper into her best friend. "B, she'll leave. She'll run in the opposite direction if she's even remotely sane."

"Rachel isn't sane."

"I guess not," Santana said, laughing weakly despite herself. "But… B, how could she not run? I'm…broken."

"You're not," Brittany said, lighting kissing Santana's shoulder. "You're not broken anymore."

"But what if she doesn't understand?" Santana asked, turning in the bed to look up at Brittany. "What if she leaves?"

"Then she wasn't worth having in the first place," Brittany said with a resolute nod, smiling, though she know it wouldn't really help.

"B, what do I tell her?" Santana whispered.

"The truth," Brittany whispered, letting her own tears fall as Santana turned back around to face the wall. "All of it."

…

Santana had come over to Rachel's house with a plan. She had prepared herself for worst while still, in some part of her body, allowing herself to hope for the best.

Once she was upstairs in Rachel's bedroom, however, the entire plan seemed to fade into oblivion as her mind shifted from resolution to panic. She wasn't ready for Rachel to leave her. Or worse, to stay with her out of pity. She didn't want things to change.

"You know what, Rach, it's okay," she tried, fidgeting on the bed. "It's really not that big of a deal. We don't have to – "

"Santana," Rachel said, taking her girlfriend's hand. "The other day, at school, I terrified you. I kissed you and it terrified you. I can't…I don't want to do that again. I need to know what's happening."

"I can't," Santana said, lowering her eyes.

"Why not?" Rachel asked, threading her fingers in her girlfriend's hair.

"I don't want lose you," Santana whispered.

"You won't," Rachel said, smiling, endlessly relieved that Santana hadn't come over to end their relationship. "And nothing you say will change that."

"How can you know?" Santana asked, looking up and searching her girlfriend's eyes. "You don't even know what I'm going to tell you."

"So tell me."

…

"Just tell her the truth," Brittany said again as Santana texted Rachel.

"All of it," Santana confirmed, putting her phone away and hugging Brittany tightly. "She won't leave, right?"

"Not if she knows what's good for her," Brittany replied with a lopsided grin.

…

"If I do this…you have to let me get it all out, okay?" Santana said, taking a deep breath.

"Okay."

"Let me finish before you say anything."

"Okay."

"Are you sure you can't just forget –"

"Santana Lopez, you tell me what's going on right this minute!"


	5. Chapter 5

**For obvious reasons, this chapter was really difficult for me to write. I've edited, edited, and re-edited, but I'm still not sure if I've done it justice. More than ever, I'd appreciate your comments to let me know what you think.**

Santana stood up and walked to Rachel's desk. She needed not to be touched, at least for the time being, if she was going to do this without breaking. Rachel's eyes followed her silently.

With a deep breath, Santana started.

"Coach always keeps us at practice late in the Spring," Santana said. "It's warmer out, and stays lighter for longer, so she tortures us until we can't stand up."

Rachel nodded.

"On April 12th last year, she kept us a lot later than usual. I had the worst cramps I've ever had in my life, so I kept screwing up the fucking pyramid." she said. "Coach didn't call practice off until I'd thrown up twice."

Rachel was about to open her mouth to protest, but clamped it shut, remembering her promise to let Santana get the whole story out.

Santana smiled sadly. "It was such a nice day, so Brittany and I had walked to school. I was completely exhausted, but neither of us had a car and by the time I was finished puking again in the locker room, everybody else on the team had already left. We decided to just walk home," she said, paling slightly as she continued. "It didn't seem like a bad idea, at the time."

Rachel took a deep breath as she fought off the panic, hoping desperately that this story wasn't going where she feared it might be headed.

"I dropped Brittany off first, just like always. She only lives ten minutes away," Santana said weakly, staring blankly at the wall straight in front of her. "Rach, he came out of nowhere."

Rachel closed her eyes as one tear fell down her cheek.

"One minute I'm walking home, just like any other Spring day, and the next thing I know, I'm being shoved into the trunk of a car. We drove for over an hour and I puked again…he was going so fast and there were so many potholes. When he finally parked the car and opened the hatch, I tried to kick him, to punch him, anything. But I was still so weak from practice and from having thrown up so many times. I managed to scratch his face pretty badly, but that's about it. He just smiled and licked his lips. He called me feisty and wiped vomit off of my chin. He was gentle. It made me want to throw up again."

Rachel clutched a pillow to her chest silently as the tears freely flowed.

"I watched Law & Order often enough to know that I had his DNA under my finger nails, so I thought everything was going to be okay. No matter what he did to me, I'd be the one to slam the cell door shut on him. Whether I was alive for it or not."

Rachel choked out a desperate sob against her pillowcase.

"Do you want me to stop?" Santana asked, her eyes still on the wall.

"No," Rachel whimpered, holding the pillow closer. "Keep going."

Santana nodded and closed her eyes. "I did my best to look around when he dragged me inside, to figure out where I was. But it was totally nondescript. There were no other houses around. Just…nothing. He took me up the stairs, brought me into the bathroom, and handcuffed me to the towel bar. When he put on a pair of rubber gloves and started to undress me, I pulled against the restraints as hard as I could. I yelled, and spit, and cursed, but all he did was smile. Then he held me against the wall, filed down my nails, and scrubbed underneath them. I guess he watched Law & Order too."

Rachel sat on the bed, eyes wide open and shaking with the force of her tears.

"When I was clean, he picked up my clothes, pulled me downstairs to a completely empty room, cuffed me to a radiator, and walked away. I tried to get out of the cuffs, but they were just too tight. When I smelled detergent and realized he was washing my uniform, I panicked. That was the last of my physical proof."

Rachel choked out a silent sob.

"When he came back in the room, I kicked at him but he laughed and bent down next to me. I tried to headbutt him but he moved away too quickly. He punched me in the stomach, so hard I lost all of the air in my lungs. "I like your spirit, but don't make me do that again," he said like a mother scolding her son. He didn't even seem angry."

Santana's voice had gotten weaker and weaker. Rachel could see that she was shaking with the effort of telling the story, of remembering every detail. She wanted so badly to go over to her girlfriend, to hold her, to bring her back to the here and now, but she just couldn't move.

"I spat at him when he touched me, when he put his fingers inside me, but he didn't care. He touched me everywhere for what seemed like hours. Then he got up and walked to the corner of the room. I thought, maybe it was over. Maybe that's it," Santana whimpered, her face ghostly pale. "But when he started to take off his clothes, I knew it wasn't. He came back and put on a condom, then got onto the floor next to me. Before he pushed himself into me, he told me that he understood if I had to scream, that it was okay. God, Rach, it hurt so badly. I was a virgin," Santana whispered. "I didn't cry though. And I didn't scream. I refused to give him that."

"Santana," Rachel croaked out.

"Let me finish," Santana pleaded, making eye contact with Rachel for the first time since she had begun the story. "I won't be able to get through it if you don't let me finish."

Rachel sobbed and nodded, clutching the pillow tighter to her chest.

"He raped me, then went into the other room to put my clothes in the drier, and raped me again two times when he came back. When he was done, he kissed my forehead, told me where the drier was so I could get my clothes, and walked out," Santana said, staring at the floor. "I waited until I heard his car drive away before I put my clothes back on and left. I couldn't go home though, not like that. So I walked around for a while, until I could bring myself to call Brittany. Her mom answered and I just started crying. She asked me where I was but I had no idea, so I just walked until I found somewhere with street names while she woke Brittany up. Brittany stayed on the phone the whole time it took for them to get to me, talking about ducks and puppies to distract me. I was so tired when they finally picked me up, in so much pain, that I just wanted to sleep, but Brittany told me that she had to take me to a doctor first, to make sure I was okay."

Rachel sat silently, listening. The tears had stopped and numbness had begun to diffuse through her body.

Santana breathed deeply. It was almost over, almost done.

"I called my parents in the waiting room while Brittany's mom called the police. When my parents got to the hospital, the police took me in to see the doctor. My mom started to come in with me but I grabbed Brittany's hand. I just couldn't handle the pain on her face. I needed to focus on my own and Brittany…well, she'll always smile. Even if it's just to make me smile," Santana said, the corner of her lips twitching into a sad smile.

"I undressed in the exam room, put on a gown, and handed my clothes to the police. The exam was horrible. I was already in so much pain, everything felt like it was tearing all over again. The doctor was being as gentle as he could, but his fingers were just so big and he put them everywhere," Santana said, shivering as tears finally started to fall. "After it was finished, I changed into the clothes my mom had packed for me and went to the police station. They questioned me for hours. I slept for fourteen hours when I finally got home."

"I was broken for so, so long. My parents helped me through it as much as they could, but I saw the hurt in their eyes every time I looked at them so I started spending more and more time with Brittany. She was right beside me in school when I had to be strong, and held me at night when I could barely piece myself together. After a while, it turned into more. I knew we weren't together, that neither of us really wanted that, but she helped me realize that I was capable of loving and worth being loved. She let me touch her but didn't push to touch me."

"That's why you got so scared when I was so forceful with you the other day," Rachel said weakly, her face losing all color.

"Yeah," Santana said, hurrying to continue. "But there was no way you could have known. I should have told you all of this from the beginning."

"Can I…did they catch him?" Rachel asked, the hope and anger clear in her voice.

"No," Santana said, sighing deeply. "They found the place where he kept me. They even got fingerprints, but they couldn't find a match in their system. Either he had never committed a crime before, or he had never gotten caught."

Rachel was silent for a moment, then took a deep breath. "I understand why you didn't tell me," she said, wiping her eyes with a tissue. "But you need to know that it doesn't change anything."

"Are you leaving me?" Santana asked weakly, looking up at Rachel with tears welling up in her eyes.

"Santana, hush," Rachel said, rushing to the desk and kneeling in front of her girlfriend. "You're so brave and I love you so much."

"I love you too," Santana sobbed, finally letting out all the tears that she'd been holding in. "Please don't leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," Rachel said, holding back her own tears. "I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

Santana gave Rachel a one week grace period after their discussion, one week during which Rachel could treat her like glass. She put up with the constant status checks and the barely there touches. She smiled through Rachel's sharp intakes of breath whenever somebody bumped into her in the hallway and the sideways glances to Brittany when they ate lunch.

After that week, though, Santana started to get frustrated. This…thing…had happened to her, but it didn't define who she was. Even more than that, though, the more she was able to pretend to feel normal, the more she was able to believe it was actually true. And Rachel's supersonic worrying wasn't really allowing her to do that.

After school, exactly a week after she had told Rachel about her rape, Santana decided that it was about time to set this to rest.

"Rach, we need to talk," she said as she closed the door to Rachel's bedroom behind her after dinner.

"Okay…" Rachel said hesitantly, sitting on the foot of her bed and crossing her ankles.

"I know you've been trying to be careful around me, and I really appreciate that," Santana began, sitting next to Rachel and taking her hand. "But I need you to understand that I'm not going to break. I wanted you to know what happened because you deserved to know, not because you were doing anything that scared me."

"But last week, when I kissed you –"

"That was one time, Rach," Santana interrupted. "It caught me off guard and you didn't know. I'm not as bad as I was before we started dating."

"I'm just worried about scaring you," Rachel said, sighing.

"I'm Santana Lopez," Santana said with a wink. "I don't get scared. Especially of you. You're, like, four foot two."

"I'm not even going to dignify that comment with a response," Rachel replied, narrowing her eyes.

"You just did," Santana said with a laugh. "Rach, there's one more thing."

"Yes?"

"I want you to know…I feel less…broken since I've been with you."

"That's a good thing," Rachel said softly.

"I want to keep feeling less broken."

"If there's something I can do to make that happen, say the word and it's done," Rachel said seriously, leaning forward and squeezing Santana's hands.

Santana took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "I want you to make love to me."

"I…you what?" Rachel said, her eyes widening.

"Not now," Santana continued quickly. "I think I'd have a panic attack."

"Okay, so you might have to explain this to me then."

"Look," Santana started. "Ever since it happened, I've always equated being touched with being scared. I've never let anybody else touch me, not even Brittany. Hell, I've barely even touched myself," Santana said, blushing and flitting her gaze to the floor.

Rachel brought her hand to Santana's cheek, lifting her head up to look in her eyes. "So you haven't –"

"Not since before…not in a really long time."

"And you want – "

"Really badly," Santana said with a laugh. "I just…it's going to take me time to get there. I know it's asking a lot, but I need you to be patient with me."

"San, touching you? Really not a hardship for me," Rachel said, smiling as she rolled her eyes.

"I know, I just…I don't want you to get mad when I need you to stop."

"Santana Lopez, you listen to me," Rachel said softly, caressing the side of Santana's face with her thumb. "I will never force you to do something you're not ready for and I'll never be angry if you need me to stop. Even if it takes the rest of our lives together, I'll wait for you to be one hundred percent comfortable with whatever we do. There are tons of things in life that you need to worry about. But baby? This isn't one of them."

"I'm such a bitch," Santana said, sighing. "I'm a bitch to everybody. So how did I get so lucky?"

"Must have been something you did in a previous life," Rachel said as she brushed her lips across Santana's cheek.

"Rach, I need…" Santana whispered.

"What do you need, baby?" Rachel asked, pulling back and looking into her girlfriend's eyes.

"Kiss me," Santana breathed out. "I need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," Rachel said with a smile before leaning forward and capturing Santana's lips with her own. They had kissed before, obviously, but there was something different about this...like it was the beginning of something new. Rachel swiped her tongue across Santana's lips, then slipped it into her mouth when Santana let out a tiny gasp.

Santana tangled her fingers in Rachel's hair and scooted back onto the bed, never breaking contact with Rachel's lips. As Santana laid down on the bed, Rachel took a moment to search her eyes. When Santana smiled and nodded, Rachel eased herself on top so that her knees straddled her girlfriend's hips.

Santana's body tensed for a moment, her eyes closing briefly in panic.

"It's okay," Rachel whispered, taking Santana's hand, placing it on her chest, and covering it with her own hand. "Just feel my heart beating. It's okay, I promise."

Rachel watched Santana's body relax and, after a few moments, felt fingers stir beneath her own . When Santana opened her eyes, she took a deep breath and ran her free hand up and down Rachel's side, encouraging her girlfriend to continue.

With a smile, Rachel squeezed her girlfriend's hand and leaned down to drag her tongue up Santana's neck, before biting gently on her earlobe and moving to capture her lips again. Santana groaned into Rachel's mouth, her hand maintaining its position on Rachel's chest.

After a few minutes, Rachel dipped her hands underneath Santana's shirt, lightly skimming the back of her knuckles against the smooth skin of Santana's waist, then her ribcage, and then the underside of her breasts.

Santana wasn't wearing a bra, so Rachel hesitated when she moved her hands up and cupped her girlfriend's breasts.

"I'm okay," Santana breathed out, fisting her free hand in Rachel's hair and bringing the singer's lips back down to her own as Rachel gently cupped her breasts.

Rachel could feel Santana's hips moving between her legs and it was driving her insane. She'd always wanted to do this to Santana, always wanted to touch her, to make her squirm. But she took it slowly, testing each new movement, each new touch.

When Rachel lightly pinched Santana's nipples, she felt her girlfriend twitch violently.

Rachel sat back quickly, taking her hands out of Santana's shirt.

"Are you okay?" she asked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her girlfriend's ear.

"I'm…God, I'm sorry, I just couldn't breathe," Santana said, closing her eyes and pressing her hand against hard Rachel's chest, desperately searching for anything to help her relax. It wasn't working. "Rach, get off. I need you to get off."

Without another word, Rachel moved off of Santana, who scrambled to sit up and hung her head between her knees, desperately trying to get her breathing to even out. Rachel sat behind Santana and rubbed one hand up and down her back, waiting silently for Santana to calm down.

After a few moments, Santana sat up and covered her face with her hands. "God, I'm so embarrassed."

"Why?" Rachel asked, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend's shoulder.

"I just…I was so turned on. Like, _so_ turned on. It was so good, and I felt like I was going to explode," Santana said, turning around and facing Rachel. "But all of a sudden I just felt trapped. I couldn't move, and it was too much, and I panicked."

"It's okay, baby," Rachel said, taking Santana's hand and kissing each fingertip. "We knew this was going to take time."

"I know," Santana said, sighing. "I'm just still so horny."

Rachel blinked for a moment, and then laughed.

"Well, Ms. Lopez," Rachel said, laying down on her back and spreading her legs slightly. "Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

Santana took one look at her girlfriend and let out a weak laugh.

An hour later, with Rachel panting into the side of her neck, her arms and legs wrapped around tightly around her waist, Santana felt, for the first time in months, that the air in her lungs was easier to breathe.

**Please review**


	7. Chapter 7

**A quick note before the fic: This story has been really difficult for me to write because of the subject matter, obviously, but also because I've never really written angst. So, it'd mean a lot to me if you guys would comment, let me know what you think. Thanks so much, and enjoy part 7!**

Over the course of the next few months, Rachel learned how to be aware of Santana's history without treating her like she was about to break. Now, every time Rachel surprised Santana with a kiss by her locker, she would trail her fingertips down Santana's arm first so as not to startle her. It had become so ingrained in them that every time Rachel touched her arm, for any reason, Santana's stomach flipped.

Gradually, Santana had been able to stop pretending to feel normal because with Rachel, she actually felt it. Slowly but surely, her life was coming back together.

"What's your opinion on fajitas?" Santana said, wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist as she fumbled for a notebook in her locker. Rachel squeaked in surprise.

"Santana Lopez, you know I don't eat meat," Rachel said seriously, even as she playfully squeezed the hands that were gripping her possessively.

"Okay, let me rephrase," Santana said, rolling her eyes. "What's your opinion on vegetable fajitas?"

"I'm in favor of them," Rachel said, turning around and softly kissing Santana's lips. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, my parents are out of town," Santana said with a grin. "I thought you could stay over and I'd cook you dinner."

"You want to cook for me," Rachel said, her eyes widening.

"Um, yes?"

"Santana, the last time you tried to cook something, you nearly burned my house - "

"Ok, that totally wasn't my fault!" Santana interrupted. "I can't help it that the numbers on your oven dial are worn down!"

"Santana, they melted off because you had the heat on too high!"

"Totally beside the point," Santana said. "Besides, we'll be at my place tonight, so you don't have to worry about your house getting destroyed."

"But there's always the fear of incineration," Rachel mumbled, turning and closing her locker.

"Rach, the only way you're going to be set on fire is if you keep calling me a bad cook. Or if Kurt walks by and some of his flames fly onto your sweater. Which…really wouldn't be that bad."

"Mocking my attire is not the way to convince me to come over."

"Okay," Santana sighed, urging the frustration down. "Rachel Berry, would you do me the honor of dining with me this evening. I promise to treat you like the lady that you are. Which means not setting you on fire."

"Much better," Rachel said, a giggle escaping her lips. "I'll just grab my overnight bag from the choir room and meet you by your car."

"Okay, sounds – wait, you already packed an overnight bag?"

"Yes, your mother called me this morning to inform me of her last minute trip. She asked if I would be kind enough to stay with you for the weekend so you wouldn't be alone. Open door policy remains in fact, unfortunately."

"My mother called you."

"Yes."

"My mother called my girlfriend and asked her to stay with me in an empty house all weekend."

"Yes."

"Well, that's fairly awesome," Santana said, then furrowed her brow."But…if nobody is going to be home, why bother with open doors?"

"I'm pretty sure she set up cameras in the house the first time you brought Puck home," Rachel said, chewing her bottom lip.

Santana blinked and then sighed. "Yeah, that sounds right."

…

"Okay, so I'll chop the onions if you do the mushrooms," Santana said, sharpening a chopping knife.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do the onions?" Rachel asked, eyeing the knife warily. "They always make your eyes tear."

"They make your eyes tear too."

"I know but, um, it's the least I can do since you're cooking me dinner," Rachel said, trying her best to sound gracious and innocent.

Santana put the knife down on the counter, turned around, and placed her hands on her hips.

"Berry, are you worried that I'm going to cut myself when my eyes water?"

"Or that you'll cut me," Rachel mumbled.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Santana said, narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing," Rachel said with a sigh. "Pass me the mushrooms."

"That's what I thought," Santana said with a smirk, picking up her knife again and setting to work on the onions.

…

"Jesus Christ, it burns!" Santana yelled feebly, wiping her eyes desperately with her sleeves.

"Santana Lopez, you put that knife down before you wipe your eyes!" Rachel screamed, grabbing her girlfriends arm and taking the knife away.

"It hurts!" Santana shrieked, knocking down a pot of boiling water from the stove as she flailed her arms around.

"That's it!" Rachel yelled, stopping Santana dead in her tracks. She knew that tone of voice. Onion eyes were the least of her problems.

"Rach?" she said, lifting her shirt up to wipe the tears off of her face.

"Do you know close you came slicing your face open? Or to scalding me?" Rachel seethed, her voice tight with frustration. "I was standing two feet away from the pot that you knocked over because you didn't listen to my advice and let me chop the fucking onions! Do you know what that would have done to my Broadway career? And Jesus Christ, Santana, how do you not know that it's not okay to wipe your face with a knife in your hand?"

Santana stood there, her eyes wide open, tears from the onions still trickling down her face. "I'm…going to get some sodas for us."

"And?" Rachel said, narrowing her eyes.

"And stop trying to cook."

"Until?"

"Until I've taken the necessary coursework at a certified culinary institute to ensure that I don't stab, poison, or set fire to the family that I hope to have one day," Santana responded calmly, her hands folded in her lap.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Rachel said, beaming.

"That's because you say it to me every time I cook," Santana mumbled as she walked to the fridge to get sodas.

"Well, maybe you should finally listen to me," Rachel scolded gently. "Lest you kill yourself wielding an errant frying pan."

...

"Well, minus the potential for stitches and third degree burns, that dinner was delicious," Rachel said, setting her knife and fork down and leaning back in her chair.

"I still can't believe you eat fajitas with silverware," Santana said, rolling her eyes.

"Well, it's better than having half of my meal end up on my shirt."

"I drop one tiny bit of sour cream on my shirt and you act as if I've rolled around on my plate."

"That one tiny bit of sour cream is one tiny bit more than I have on my clothing."

"My boobs are bigger than yours," Santana reasoned. "They catch food as it drops."

"That's what a napkin is for," Rachel said with a laugh.

"Are you saying you'd rather have this," Santana said, reaching over and skimming her fingernails up Rachel's thigh as she removed the napkin from her lap. "Than this?"

Rachel chuckled as Santana took her hand and brought it to one of her breasts.

"Well?" Santana asked, leaning closer to Rachel. "What's the verdict?"

"I forgot the question," Rachel whispered, gently squeezing the mound of flesh under her hand.

Santana's heart rate picked up as Rachel moved her thumb in circles around her nipple. They had definitely come a long way since the first night Santana let Rachel touch her, but the panic was always there, simmering under the surface.

Taking a few deep breaths, Santana stood up, guided Rachel to the couch in the living room, and sat down, smiling when Rachel moved to straddle her.

"Are you okay with this?" Rachel asked, easing onto her girlfriend.

"Definitely," Santana said. "Besides, I can still top you from the bottom."

"Oh really?" Rachel asked, her hips jerking involuntarily against Santana.

"Yeah," Santana replied with a grin as she reached up Rachel's shirt and pinched her nipples. "No bra, hmm?"

Rachel knew what was happening. She knew that Santana needed to adjust to being held down, that she needed a distraction to take her mind off of the fact that she was underneath another person. Still, Rachel thought as she arched her back, what a great choice of distraction.

"Oh god," Rachel groaned, tangling her hands in her girlfriend's hair. "No underwear either."

Santana raised an eyebrow and moved one hand to the inside of Rachel's thigh. She smiled when her finger tips brushed neatly trimmed curls.

"So I see," Santana said before moving her hand father to lightly stroke Rachel's clit.

Rachel's hips jerked violently at the contact as she moved her forehead to rest softly against Santana's.

Santana moved her finger up and down, her stomach flipping each time Rachel gasped into her mouth. She felt Rachel's hips rolling against her as she added another finger, still going up and down, before she moved them to surround Rachel's clit and gently squeezed them together.

"God," Rachel whimpered, her hips pulsing against Santana's hand. "I need you inside me. Please, I can't…I can't take it anymore."

Santana bit back a groan as she gently lifted Rachel's hips and positioned two fingers at her entrance. Before she could slide them inside, Rachel lowered herself down, biting her lip as she took Santana's fingers inside her.

"God, Rachel, that's... amazing," Santana whispered, curling her fingers as Rachel began to rotate her hips.

"You're telling me," Rachel said, gasping as she moved her hips up and down, arching her back and panting into Santana's mouth.

Santana pressed her lips against Rachel's, groaning when Rachel's body started to shake.

"More," Rachel said, her hips moving erratically. "God, more, I need more."

Gripping onto Rachel's hip, Santana pushed another finger inside of her girlfriend, moaning when Rachel's eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Rachel's eyes shot open when Santana swiped her thumb across her clit and desperately pistoned her hips, clutching onto Santana's shoulders as the orgasm ripped through her.

Santana moved her thumb from side to side, savoring each time Rachel's body twitched as she came down from the high before finally pulling her fingers out and grabbing Rachel's hips.

When Rachel had partially recovered, she glanced up at her Santana, who was breathing heavily, her eyes hooded with lust. Experimentally, Rachel pressed her pelvis down into Santana's, marveling when her girlfriend's hand tightened on her hips.

"Santana, are you…"

"I need you," Santana whispered, arching her hips up.

Rachel nodded and slowly moved her hand underneath Santana's shirt, her heart pounding when Santana arched into her. Bending down, Rachel slowly skimmed the tip of her tongue up Santana's neck and to her ear.

"You're so gorgeous," Rachel whispered. "So unbelievably beautiful."

Santana whimpered, her eyes shutting when Rachel moved one hand to rest on her thigh.

Then the phone rang.

"Forget it," Santana said when Rachel paused. "The answering machine will get it."

Smiling, Rachel continued to move her hand slowly up Santana's thigh, stopping to knead the soft flesh. Just as she reached the edge of Santana's underwear, the answering machine turned on.

"_Mr. and Mrs. Lopez, Santana, this is Detective Rebecca Faulkner. I need you to give me a call as soon as you get this. I think we caught the bastard."_

Rachel and Santana froze, wide eyed, as a loud beep filled the air.

When Rachel felt Santana start to shake, she quickly grabbed her hand and pressed it tightly to her chest. "Feel my heartbeat, baby, it's okay. Breathe in," Rachel said, watching as Santana stared at her with tears streaming out of her eyes. "And breathe out. Breathe in," Santana struggled to comply, taking deep wrenching breaths. "And breathe out. Breathe in," Santana closed her eyes, fighting off the panic as she focused on breathing. "And breathe out."

Once Santana had calmed down a little, a full ten minutes late, Rachel climbed off of her lap and pulled her into a tight hug. "It's okay baby, what do you need? What do you want to do?"

"What do you mean, what do I want to do?" Santana said weakly, clutching onto Rachel's shirt as the tears tumbled out of her.

"Sweetie, you need to know that if you call her back, everything is going to get brought to the surface again. If it's really the guy, you'll have to see him, face him. And it might be even harder if it turns out not to be him," Rachel said, rubbing her hands up and down Santana's back.

"What's the alternative?" Santana said, pulling back and looking into Rachel's eyes.

"Going on with your life," Rachel said softly.

Santana narrowed her eyes "You want me to – "

"No, not at all," Rachel interrupted. "I want the bastard to fry, but I just need you to be aware, to really understand what's about to happen. That being said, you're the strongest person I know, and if anybody can face this, it's you."

"Will you be there with me?" Santana asked, her eyes fluttering closed as she gripped Rachel's hand.

"Every single step of the way," Rachel confirmed. "And if he gets the electric chair, I'll be there to pull the fucking switch."

"Stop fucking cursing," Santana said, smiling weakly.

"Only for you," Rachel said, reaching for her cell phone and then taking the house phone out of its charger.

"Why two phones?" Santana asked as she took the house phone from Rachel's hand.

"I'm going to call your parents, and you're going to call the detective."

"Can you just…will you stay with me?"

"Of course," Rachel said, tucking her phone back in her pocket as Santana nodded and dialed the police station.

"Detective Faulkner," Santana said, her hand immediately moving to press lightly on Rachel's chest. "It's Santana Lopez."


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you all so much for your comments on the last chapter. A number of you revealed some very personal things to me and I can't tell you how much I appreciate your confidence and your support. Moving forward, I hope you'll continue to let me know what you think. Your comments mean the world to me.**

After a long discussion with Rachel and her parents – who had come home immediately from their trip – Santana decided to tell the rest of the glee club what was going on. Although she was hesitant at first, she decided that she was probably going to need all of the support she could get.

During lunch, with Brittany and Rachel flanking her, Santana told Mr. Schuester the whole story. It didn't take as long as she thought it would; he was actually a really good listener once he stopped trying to call the police every thirty seconds. When he offered to call Ms. Pillsbury, Santana scoffed. The last thing she wanted was some ginger-haired lemur handing her pamphlets. Besides, she didn't need all that concern and pity hovering amorphously around her. After Glee, she was going to have enough of that anyway.

By the end of the day, Santana was nearly crawling out of her skin. As she splashed water on her face in the girls' bathroom, she idly wondered what it would be like to time travel to the end of this whole ordeal.

"It's going to be okay," Rachel said softly, coming into the bathroom and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend's waist.

"They're going to look at me differently," Santana sighed.

"That doesn't have to be a bad thing," Rachel replied.

"They're going to think I'm weak," Santana said, turning around. "Explain to me how that's not a bad thing."

"First of all, I don't think showing some weakness is such a bad thing," Rachel said, pressing her finger to Santana's lips when she tried to interrupt. "But I really don't think they're going to go there. Weak was the last adjective on my mind when you told me. Brave, yes. Strong, yes. Weak, definitely not."

Santana smiled, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend's lips. "What's the second thing?"

"Second thing?"

"You said first of all," Santana said, grinning. "What's the second of all?"

"Oh," Rachel said with a laugh, taking Santana's hand and leading her out of the bathroom. "I love you."

"That's not second of all," Santana said. "That's best of all."

"You're a dork."

"I know."

…

"Alright guys, we're going to do something a little different today," Mr. Schuester said once the glee club was gathered and paying attention.

"Please don't tell me we're doing more musak," Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

"No, Kurt, no musak," Mr. Shue said. "No music either, actually. One of your friends has something very important to talk to you about."

"Oh man, who got knocked up this time," Puck said, grinning.

"Not funny, Puck," Quinn said, rolling her eyes and punching him in the arm.

"I thought it was pretty funny," Puck replied.

"Guys, this is serious," Mr. Schue said. "Santana? Are you ready?"

Taking a deep breath, Santana nodded and moved a chair to face the rest of the club.

"Santana's knocked up?" Puck said, sitting forward.

"Noah Puckerman, if you don't shut up I'm going to come over and turn you into a soprano," Rachel said, seething.

Santana smiled. She knew Rachel was pissed at Puck, but she'd be lying if she didn't find the banter comforting. In about thirty seconds, after all, her relationships with all of these people were going to change, probably forever.

"It's okay," Rachel whispered, grabbing a chair and sitting to next to her. "Just start from the beginning."

"We're right here," Brittany said, scooting her own chair closer and taking Santana's hand.

Santana nodded, closing her eyes for a moment and steeling her resolve.

"About a year ago, I was abducted and raped," Santana said.

Puck spun around in his chair, dropping the pen he had been using to poke Finn.

"That's not funny," Quinn said, paling.

"Do you really think she'd joke about something like this?" Rachel replied, holding onto Santana's hand.

Quinn stared for a moment, then averted her eyes. "No, I don't."

Nodding, Santana continued.

By the time she had finished the story, the entire club was silent. Mike and Artie were stoic, both of them holding onto Tina who was crying silently. Mercedes and Kurt were dabbing at their eyes with the Hermes handkerchief that Kurt had tucked in his blazer. Quinn, Puck, and Finn looked pissed. Really, really pissed.

Rachel and Brittany were doing their best not to cry. It wasn't easy, but they pushed the tears back.

"So they caught the guy?" Artie said, his voice cracking in the silence.

"I…don't know," Santana said. "They think so. Apparently he tried to attack another student in the area, but her father randomly came home early, heard her screaming, and called the cops."

"So they have his DNA," Quinn said, color slowly returning to her face. "They'll be able to tell if it's the same guy."

"They're running it now," Santana confirmed. "But they want me to come in for a line-up in a few hours."

"I'm coming with you," Puck said.

"Puck, you don't have to come with me," Santana said. "My parents will be there, and so will Rachel and Brittany. It's fine."

"I'm coming with you," Puck repeated. "Nothing you can do to stop me."

"Us," Finn said through clenched teeth. "Nothing you can do to stop us."

"I'm coming too," Quinn said. "I…understand why you didn't tell me. This rivalry between us…it ended about thirty minutes ago, but I get why you didn't tell me. And there's no way I'm letting you do this alone."

"Quinn, I really appreciate it, but I'm not alone."

"I'm coming too," Artie said. "I'll roll over the bastard's dick."

Brittany squealed and clapped.

"Count us in," Tina said, drying her eyes. "The Asian mafia is not to be trifled with."

"I'm coming too," Mr. Schuester said. "You need an adult there."

"My parents are coming, Mr. Shue," Santana said.

"I…umm…The student to adult ratio would be totally unmanageable," Mr. Shue said finally, nodding emphatically. "It'd be grossly inappropriate for me to leave all of you un-chaperoned."

Puck nodded, his jaw set.

"Guys, I…I can handle this," Santana said, her chest beginning to rise and fall more rapidly. "I'm not going to break."

"Of course you're not going to break," Kurt said, moving forward and sitting in an empty chair in front of Santana. "We know you don't need us to get through this, but you're out of your mind if you think you're going to convince us not to come. You don't need us," Kurt repeated. "But you're stuck with us."

"I used to be so badass," Santana said with a laugh. "What the hell happened?"

"Oh please, you still are," Mercedes said. "But now you have a badass army to back you up."

Next to Santana, Rachel beamed.

…

Detective Faulkner's eyebrows nearly raised off of her head when she saw the huge group of students flanking Santana, her parents, and the District Attorney, Alice Richardson, as they entered the station.

"Santana," she said, "I see you brought some friends," she said, after she shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Lopez. "That's great. The line-up is already for you, but I'm not sure the room is big enough for your entourage."

"I can sit on her lap," Kurt said, pointing to Mercedes.

"I can sit on his lap too," Artie said, gesturing to Finn. "Or, wait. That wouldn't work. He can sit on my lap."

Faulkner shook her head and grinned, showing everybody into a dark room.

"Okay guys," she said, shutting the door. "I assume you've all met Ms. Richardson, the DA. This is Mr. Kevin Lane. He's the attorney for the defense."

"It's nice to meet you - ouch!" Lane said, lifting his foot up.

"Oh, so sorry,' Artie said, feigning innocence. "I must have lost control of my wheelchair."

Lane sighed.

"Alright, Santana," Faulkner said, tying her long blonde hair back in a quick bun. "Here's what's going to happen. When we turn on the light in the other room, you'll be able to see six men. If you want to see any one of them closer, tell me, and I'll communicate the message."

Santana paled, her grip tightening on Rachel's hand as her mother and father moved wordlessly to surround her.

"Just remember, Santana, they absolutely cannot see or hear you," Faulkner said, tucking her reading glasses onto her sweater. "You're completely safe."

"Okay," Santana said. Her heart was thudding in her chest.

"Look at me, Mija," her mother said, waiting until Santana turned around. "We're right here. Your father and I, Rachel, and all your friends. We're right here."

"Thanks Mami," Santana whispered.

"Are you ready?" Detective Faulkner asked.

Taking a deep breath, Santana moved to the front of the window. Rachel was there in a split second, intertwining their fingers. Puck moved up silently and took Santana's other hand, nodding when she glanced over at him.

"I'm ready."

"Okay," Faulkner said, turning on the light. "Take your time."

When Santana started to hyperventilate, Rachel quietly took her hand and placed it on her chest. "Feel my heartbeat, baby."

Thankfully, Puck had the decently not to leer.

"I don't need time," Santana said breathlessly.

"Because he's not there?" Lane said, stepping forward.

"No," Santana said. "Because I'd recognize that man anywhere. It's Number three. That's him."

He was built exactly as Santana had remembered him. Tall, muscular with thick brown hair and black rimmed glasses. He had a faint scar on his left cheek. Santana prayed that it was her who had put it there.

Faulkner smiled and nodded, then pulled out her phone. "Book him," she said.

"Mr. Lane, it appears that I'll be seeing you in court," Richardson said, jotting down some notes before tucking the pen on the lapel of her jacket and moving forward to Santana.

"Well done, Ms. Lopez," she said, squeezing Santana's shoulder briefly before turning and leaving the room, her thick brown hair swaying behind her.

A moment later, an officer came into the room and guided the prisoner out. He didn't look scared, or resentful, or even angry. He just smiled serenely as they led him out of the room.

"You did so well, Mija," Santana's father said, coming up behind her and rubbing her shoulder. "We're so proud of you."

Santana just broke down and cried, leaning onto her father for support and clutching Rachel's hand desperately.

When she had calmed down, Faulkner led everybody out of the room and into the bull pen.

Santana was signing papers and leaning on Puck's shoulder when she felt his body stiffen. Before she could ask him what was wrong, he had launched out of his seat. The next thing she knew, he was on top of somebody, landing a few solid punches before he was pulled away by uniformed officers.

"Let me go," he seethed, eerily calm.

"Not a good idea," Detective Faulkner said, putting her hand on Puck's shoulder and nodding to the officers, who let him go after a moment.

"You can't let him get away with this. Not after what he did to her."

"We won't let him get away with it," Faulkner said, grabbing onto Puck's collar when he made another move to get to the suspect as he was hoisted to his feet. "We won't," she repeated, cautiously letting him go when his body relaxed.

"And you," she said, turning to the suspect as he was led away. "You need to stop running into walls."


	9. Chapter 9

****Thank you all again for your thoughts and comments on this story. It means so much that you would open up, not just about your impressions on my story, but about your own lives. Please continue to share your thoughts. It means the world to me.**  
**

After they left the police station, Mr. and Mrs. Lopez took the entire club, Mr. Shuester included, out to dinner at Breadsticks. Santana was exhausted, but frankly, she needed the distraction.

She leaned on Rachel's shoulder, laughing as her mother sat next to Puck, surrounding him with burgers, fries, sodas, and ice packs for his battered knuckles.

Just before the entrées arrived, Mr. Lopez ordered two cold beers. When they came, he slid one in front of Puck.

"For your hands," he said simply, then tapped his own beer against it and took a deep swig.

Puck nodded.

The rest of the evening, much to Santana's surprise, was pretty normal. Nobody brought up anything that happened at the police station. Instead, they just talked and laughed. Santana watched as Brittany and Quinn gossiped, smiling every time Quinn would look back and search her eyes.

"I'm okay, Q," Santana said with a little smile. "You don't have to check up on me."

"Too bad," Quinn said, flipping her hair and resuming her conversation.

Santana laughed and shook her head. Even when Quinn was trying to be nice, she was a pain in the ass.

…

After dinner, Rachel went with Santana and her parents back to the Lopez house. She had called her dads on the way and told them, in no small terms, that she was taking the following day off of school because Santana had a meeting with the District Attorney and demanded to accompany her since Mr. and Mrs. Lopez had work. Apparently, Rachel's fathers had assumed as much because there was a bag, big enough for a week, waiting for her by the Lopez's front door.

After the girls washed up and changed into pajamas, Santana's parents came in to say goodnight. They each kissed Santana's forehead, lingering wordlessly for a moment before moving to give Rachel a kiss as well.

"Goodnight girls," her mother said before silently shutting the door.

Santana closed her eyes and rested her head on Rachel's chest, savoring the feeling of her girlfriend's fingertips brushing through her hair.

"Looks like the open door policy is over," Santana said, scooting up and pressing a kiss to Rachel's lips.

"Santana, you've just had a difficult day. Surely you aren't in the mood to push your boundaries right now."

"God, no," Santana said, turning onto her side and tangling her legs with Rachel's. "My nerves are way too frayed for that right now. But, after the day I've had, I just…I need to feel you."

Rachel smiled, twirling a lock of Santana's hair around her finger. Santana needed to feel normal, needed to feel in control. And that was something Rachel could give her.

"I'm all yours," she whispered, bringing her hand to cup behind Santana's neck as she pulled her closer.

"You can't do that," Santana said, inching back, her eyes wide. "Please, don't do that. Just…let me."

"I'm sorry," Rachel said, dropping her hand softly.

"Don't be," Santana whispered, brushing her lips against Rachel's. "I just…you can't touch me, okay? Just let me do this."

"I trust you," Rachel said, raising her arms up so Santana could ease off her shirt, and then lifting her hips so her underwear could be removed. The breath spilled out of Rachel's lungs when she felt Santana's lips ghosting across her collarbone. "I love you so much, S. I promise, everything is going to be okay."

"I love you too," Santana whispered, moving to straddle Rachel's hips. "I could never do this without you."

"I'm sure you could find somebody else to have sex with," Rachel said, chuckling, before Santana's thumbs circled her nipples and her breath caught on a moan.

"You know what I mean," Santana said, pinching and tweaking, savoring every jump of Rachel's hips between her legs.

"I do," Rachel confirmed, her hands itching to reach out for Santana but fisting in the sheets instead. "But you're stronger than you think."

"I'm stronger when I'm with you," Santana said, drawing lazy patterns with her fingertips against Rachel's abdomen. "You're so amazing."

"I've been trying to tell you that for years…Oh, God," Rachel said, rotating her hips as Santana's fingers found her clit.

Santana moved against Rachel softly, drinking in the way her hips would arch up and tremor lightly as they came back down. She fell in love with Rachel all over again, each and every time Rachel stopped herself from wrapping her legs around Santana's waist, instead moaning and spreading them apart farther.

Rachel let out a deep, guttural groan when Santana softly pushed two fingers inside of her. Rachel's hands flew to her own chest, pulling at her nipples softly as Santana moved slowly inside of her, curling her fingers each time they slid in.

"God, Santana, you feel so good," Rachel said breathlessly as her eyes fluttered closed.

This was home for Santana. Everything else in her life was confusing, terrifying even. But this, Rachel…this made sense. She knew how Rachel's body worked, knew the way it twitched, convulsed, and contracted. She knew that Rachel would be there when this was over. When all of this was over.

"San, I'm so close," Rachel whimpered, reaching backwards and grabbing the headboard as she moved against Santana's fingers.

"Come for me, then," Santana said, placing one elbow on the side of Rachel's head as she continued to move inside of Rachel. "Come for me."

Rachel groaned, her hips freezing mid-air for a moment before they pistoned lightly against Santana's hand. After a moment, her entire body relaxed and her hands dropped back to the bed.

"God, Santana, that was amazing," Rachel said, wiping the sweat off of her forehead as she came down from the high. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Santana said, wiping her eyes with her free hand. "I'm just overwhelmed."

"Come here," Rachel whispered, reaching for Santana's wrist, shuddering slightly as she removed it from between her legs.

Santana nodded, and turned onto her side facing the window, sighing as Rachel wrapped her arms around her from behind.

"I think it's totally normal for you to feel overwhelmed right now," Rachel said, snuggling closer to her girlfriend. "But the good news is that you have me, you have the entire Glee club, and you have your parents to take as much of the pressure off of you as we possibly can."

"But at the end of the day, it's only on me," Santana said.

"There's no such thing as 'only you' in this equation," Rachel replied, pressing a kiss to Santana's shoulder. "Or in any equation, for that matter."

Santana was silent for a moment, content to feel Rachel breathing against her.

"You're going to come with me to the DA tomorrow, right?"

"Of course I am," Rachel said. "My fathers packed my business suit for me."

Santana rolled her eyes, grinning into the pillow.


	10. Chapter 10

****Once again, your comments were great. This chapter was really difficult for me to write from beginning to end. A lot of time, thought, and effort went into it. Your thoughts are so appreciated. Thanks.****

When Santana and Rachel met with District Attorney Richardson the next day, they found out that the suspect's DNA was a positive match to the sample collected from Santana after the attack.

The suspect's name was John White. He was a thirty-five year old assistant professor of mathematics at a nearby community college with no previous arrests.

"How does a guy go from normal citizen to rapist?" Rachel wondered out loud, running her thumb over Santana's palm.

"We don't know that he was a normal citizen, Rachel," the DA replied. "Just that he'd never been caught before. There are several pockets of time over the last two years, about three weeks each, that White went totally off the grid. One of them was just after his attack on Santana. We're working to prove that the others were preceded by additional attacks."

Santana's eyes widened, her face blanching.

"Your testimony is going to help put him away, Santana," the DA said, leaning down and grasping Santana's shoulder. "I know it's going to be hard to face him, to relive it all, but you have to keep that in mind."

Taking a deep breath, Santana nodded.  
…

By the time the trial began, the police had managed to connect three more women to White's interspersed disappearances. All three of them agreed to testify.

Unfortunately for Santana, her testimony was scheduled towards the end of the trial. In an effort to distract herself, she focused completely onto her school work whenever she wasn't at meetings with the DA.

To her credit, Rachel was right there with her the entire time, sitting cross-legged on Santana's bed pouring herself into her own studies. It didn't matter that they barely spoke until they were called down to dinner. Santana felt Rachel's support in great, tidal waves. And when they would go to bed – whether it was in the Berry household or at the Lopez household – the two would talk about everything that they had been thinking throughout the day. And every night before Santana fell asleep, Rachel would tell her a cheesy joke. So your dreams are carefree, she would say.

…

The day before Santana's testimony, Rachel decided to change things up.

"Santana, put the book down," Rachel said.

"Not now, Rach," Santana said, flipping back a few pages and grabbing a highlighter. "I'm in the middle of the chapter."

"I don't care, we're going out."

"Can't," Santana said. "Way too much to do."

"Santana Lopez, you put that book down right now," Rachel said, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.

Santana rolled her eyes, but knew better than to argue.

"We have been sitting inside working for the past two weeks. And while it's admirable to devote oneself to school, I have had just about enough for the moment. Now get dressed, you're taking me to dinner and a movie."

Santana blinked a few times and then laughed. "You're cute when you're bossy."

Rachel nodded once, then threw a pair of jeans at her girlfriend. "Put them on. You're taking me for Italian."

…

"I'm surprised they were able to take walk-ins," Rachel said once they were seated at Luzzo's. "Didn't this place only open a week ago?"

"Yeah, but most people don't get dragged out to dinner on Sunday nights," Santana said as she folded the napkin over her lap.

"Oh, stop complaining," Rachel said, rolling her eyes. "I could hear your stomach rumbling from across the room."

"Ok, fine, so I was hungry," Santana said. "I could have just cooked us something."

"Have you recently enrolled in a cooking class that I don't know about?" Rachel asked, one eyebrow raised.

"No…" Santana replied, glancing sideways.

"Then you couldn't have cooked us dinner. "

"Rachel, I know how to cook simple stuff. I could have made pasta."

"Santana, what happened the last time you tried to make pasta?" Rachel asked.

"…I don't remember," Santana said, taking a sip of water.

"Santana."

"I plead the fifth?"

"Santana."

"Ugh, fine," Santana said, grabbing a roll from the bread basket. "I burned myself pouring the pasta into the strainer."

"And then?"

"Dropped all the pasta on the floor."

"Exactly," Rachel said, a triumphant grin on her face.

"I still maintain that the pasta was cooked perfectly," Santana grumbled.

"Well, we'll never know, will we?" Rachel said, signaling the waitress to come and take their orders.

…

"Back to studying we go," Santana said once she had paid the check.

"Sorry, not on the agenda for tonight," Rachel said, climbing into the passenger seat of Santana's car.

"What do you mean, not on the agenda?" Santana said, her eyes narrowed, as she got into the car.

"You're taking me to a movie."

"Oh, am I?"

"Yes," Rachel said, fixing Santana with a steely glare. "You are."

"You have to do something for me first," Santana said after a moment, a grin beginning to spread.

"And what's that?"

"You have to admit that the pancakes I made for you this morning were delicious."

"Santana, I don't see how –"

"Nope, sorry. Not going anywhere until you tell me they were the best pancakes you've ever had."

"Fine," Rachel said, rolling her eyes. "They were the best pancakes I've ever had."

"How amazing were they?" Santana said, grinning.

"How'd you get that burn on your hand?" Rachel replied.

"So, what movie do you want to see?" Santana said, turning the ignition on.

…

"I still don't see why Katherine Heigl still gets cast in these movies," Rachel said as they got into the car.

"Because she's totally hot," Santana replied.

"But she's completely untalented!" Rachel whined.

"But…she's totally hot," Santana reasoned. "Are we going back to my place now?"

"Yes," Rachel said. "As much fun as tonight has been – despite all of your protesting – you need to be rested tomorrow."

Santana's face blanched slightly. She had almost forgotten.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," Rachel said, tucking a lock of hair behind Santana's ear. "I promise, everything will be fine. You just have to get through tomorrow, and you'll have done everything you possibly can to put this guy away."

Taking a deep breath, Santana nodded and drove back to her place.

…

When they got back to the Lopez house, Rachel went upstairs to wash up so that Santana could have some time with her parents. She was already in pajamas by the time Santana came upstairs.

"You okay?" Rachel asked, sitting next o Santana on the bed.

"I'm better than I thought I'd be," Santana said. "And a lot of that is because of you."

Rachel smiled, reaching out to hold her girlfriend's hand.

"I'm serious," Santana said, turning slightly to face Rachel. "You let me distract myself with work and didn't complain even though we barely spoke all month. You took me out tonight – or, well, made me take you out – so I'd relax. And you haven't pushed me into sex, even though I can tell you're practically crawling out of your skin every time I make love to you."

"It was nothing," Rachel said. "I was there because you needed me. That's never going to change."

"I know that," Santana said. "And I love you."

With that, Santana leaned over and placed a gentle kiss against Rachel's lips. Then another, and another.

Without even meaning to, Rachel deepened the kiss, tracing her tongue against Santana's bottom lip.

Rachel 's hands clutched onto her own knees when Santana whimpered and scooted closer, slipping her tongue into her mouth.

Rachel moaned when Santana reached for her hand and placed it on her neck. Slowly, she let her fingers tangle into the dark hair, pulling her girlfriend closer.

After a few moments, Santana broke the kiss and stared into her girlfriend's eyes. Taking a deep breath, Santana pulled her shirt off, then took Rachel's hand and placed it gently on her breast.

Rachel's eyes widened. Santana had barely been comfortable kissing lately, let alone this. Experimentally, she squeezed slightly, searching Santana's face for any sign of panic or discomfort. All she got in return was a slight gasp and a smile.

She let her hand rest there for a moment, jerking away when Santana reached for her hand.

"I'm okay," Santana said. "I was just going to do this."

With that, Santana reached behind her back and removed her bra. Then, she brought Rachel's hand back to where it was.

Rachel groaned, softly palming Santana's bare breast, letting her thumbs circle the dark nipples. Santana's head fell back, her hips moving involuntarily.

Keeping her hand on Santana's breast, Rachel eased her girlfriend down on the bed and kissed down the column of her neck, stopping every few moments to gauge Santana's reaction. When she looked up, she expected to see pale skin and wide open eyes. Instead, she saw a flush spreading across Santana's body, her eyes fluttering closed.

Santana brought her fingers up to thread through Rachel's hair when she felt a mouth on her nipple.

"Stop," she whimpered after a moment.

Immediately Rachel stopped and sat backwards.

"No," Santana laughed softly. "Don't stop everything. I just need these off."

Rachel watched wide-eyed as Santana unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off, leaving her in black cotton panties.

"Back to what you were doing," Santana said, giggling when Rachel wasted no time, attaching her lips to Santana's other nipple.

Rachel felt Santana's heart beat speeding up, but judging from the throaty moans and soft whimpers, she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with panic. So she continued licking, sucking, and gently biting, savoring the feel of Santana's body as it twitched underneath hers.

"Rach," Santana whispered. "Take off your clothes."

Rachel sat back, and nodded, pulling the tank top over her head before she stood up to remove her shorts and underwear.

Santana watched as she stripped, marveling at the way Rachel's muscles moved under her skin. Before Rachel could get back on the bed, however, Santana stopped her and, taking a deep breath, slid her own underwear down and off.

It was the first time Rachel had seen Santana fully naked, and she tried desperately to stop herself from staring.

Obviously, it didn't work.

"Santana, you're…you're absolutely gorgeous."

"So are you," Santana whispered, reaching for Rachel. "Now come back here."

Rachel nodded and climbed onto the bed and settled herself next to Santana, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to her girlfriend's lips. Santana moaned into the kiss, cupping the back of Rachel's neck and nipping at her tongue when she felt it slide into her mouth.

Rachel hesitated for a moment, and then brought her hand back to Santana's breast, pinching gently at her nipple.

Santana would be lying if she said she wasn't panicking a little bit, but she felt safe. She felt beautiful.

With a final tug at Rachel's bottom lip, Santana broke the kiss and reached for Rachel's hand, savoring her girlfriend's gasp when she moved it over her abdomen.

Rachel stopped when she felt damp curls against her fingertips.

"Santana," she said, panting. "We don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything."

"Not everything is about you, Berry," Santana said, chuckling softly.

"I'm serious, Santana," Rachel said. "I don't want to push you."

"You're not pushing me," Santana replied, smiling. "I'm scared. But I'm ready."

Rachel looked down for a moment, then back into Santana's eyes. " I don't want to hurt you," she whispered.

"I won't break," Santana replied. "You've seen to that."

Slowly, Santana brought Rachel's hands down, gasping softly when Rachel cupped her.

"Promise me that you'll stop me if you start to panic," Rachel said.

"I promise," Santana whispered, arching into Rachel's touch as she dipped a finger between her folds.

Slowly, Rachel circled Santana's clit, moaning when Santana cried out.

"Christ," Santana said, her hips rocking gently against Rachel's hand. "That feels amazing.'

Rachel nodded, closing her eyes against her own arousal, and leaned forward to pepper her girlfriend's chest with light kisses as she continued to draw out little gasps and groans.

After a little while, Rachel could feel Santana getting restless so she gathered some wetness and circled the skin around her girlfriend's entrance.

When Santana jerked below her, she immediately stilled her fingers.

"Are you okay with this?" she said.

"Yes," Santana said, breathing deeply. "Just let me…I need your heartbeat."

Rachel smiled as Santana positioned her hand between Rachel's breasts.

"I'm ready," Santana whispered.

Nodding slowly, Rachel pressed a finger inside of her girlfriend, biting her lip when she felt the muscles pull her in.

She let it rest there as Santana squirmed, clutching the skin on Rachel's chest.

"Do you need me to stop?" Rachel asked.

"No, I need you to do something with your goddam finger."

Rachel laughed softly and moved slightly to straddle Santana's leg before beginning to move inside of her.

After a few strokes, Rachel added another finger, gasping when Santana's thigh jerked between her legs.

She pressed her pelvis down, jerking with pleasure every time Santana's leg twitched.

They both started to breath heavily, panting against one another as Rachel's fingers pressed insistently into Santana.

"God, Rach," Santana groaned. "You feel so good inside of me."

"I…can't concentrate when you talk like that," Rachel gasped, grinding down on Santana.

"Yes you can," Santana said, balancing on her elbows to slip her tongue into Rachel's mouth. "You're going to make me come so soon."

Santana's whole body started to shake when Rachel's thumb pressed against her clit.

"Fuck, Rachel," she managed, her elbows giving out as she writhed and came undone.

Rachel felt her own orgasm coming quickly and, with one final thrust onto Santana's leg, she let herself go.

Santana wrapped her arms around Rachel when she collapsed on top of her.

"I had no idea," Santana whispered, willing her breathing to return to normal.

"No idea of what?" Rachel managed.

"That it could feel that good," Santana said, lifting Rachel's chin to kiss her. "Thank you."

"No worries," Rachel said nonchalantly, still panting. "It's how I roll."

Santana barked out a laugh. "You're too much."

"I'm perfect," Rachel said, glancing at the clock on Santana's night table. "We should really get to bed, sweetie."

"You're right."

"I know, it's like, midnight already," Rachel said, moving to settle next to her girlfriend.

"Not about that," Santana said, wrapping her arms around Rachel. "You're right. You're perfect."

"I know," Rachel said, smiling into the pillow. "So are you."

The girls fell asleep moments later, pretending for as long as they could that they didn't have to go to court in the morning.


	11. Chapter 11

****Okay, so I think the story is winding to a close, or will be in the next few chapters. All of your comments have meant so much to me. Knowing that I'm able to make a difference, even if its a teeny tiny difference, makes all the hard work worthwhile. Please continue to let me know how you think I'm doing. You're all the best!****

Santana paced outside the courtroom, waiting for the bailiff to call her inside.

"You need to calm down," Rachel said, placing her hands on Santana's shoulders and gently rubbing. "You're about to burn a hole in the floor."

"With me feet or my flaming homosexuality?" Santana quipped.

"Good, jokes are good," Rachel said, laughing.

"What if I screw up?" Santana said, sitting down on the bench behind her.

"You won't," Rachel said, sitting down and taking her girlfriend's hand.

"What if the lawyer trips me up or confuses me? What if I say something that sets White free?"

"You won't," Rachel repeated.

"How do you know?" Santana sighed.

"You won't get tripped up, confused, or set White free because you're only going to tell the truth. There's no confusing the truth."

"I know, but what if – "

Santana was interrupted when the courtroom door swung open.

"Ms. Lopez, it's time," the bailiff said.

Santana nodded as Rachel squeezed her hand and stood up.

"I'll be right in the front row, between Puck and your mother. If you get freaked out, just look at me. I'll be there."

"Okay," Santana said, taking a deep breath as she followed the bailiff into the courtroom.

Rachel was only a few steps behind her, quietly moving into the seat that Puck had saved for her.

…

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

"Yes," Santana said.

"Ms. Lopez you may take the stand," the judge said. She was a middle aged woman with tight brown curls and horn rimmed glasses. She looked kind, Santana thought idly, as she settled herself.

"Ms. Richardson, your witness," she said.

The DA nodded, and poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the table near her. "Ms. Lopez, how are you feeling today?"

"I'm fine," Santana said, accepting the water from the DA.

"That's good," Richardson said, pacing slightly in front of the stand. "Let's just jump right in, then. Can you tell me what happened on the evening of April 12th?"

Santana nodded and took a sip of water. Suddenly, her mouth felt like a desert. "Coach Sylvester kept us at cheerleading practice late. I threw up a few times - cramps on top of a three hour practice – and by the time I was all washed up there was nobody left to drive me home. Since my parents were still at work and it wasn't too cold, I walked home with my friend Brittany. After I dropped her off, a man grabbed me from behind. I tried to fight him off, but I was so exhausted…from practice and from being sick. He shoved me in the trunk of his car and we drove for a while. When he finally parked and opened the trunk, I tried to fight him off again. I yelled, and I screamed, and I scratched his face. I wanted to get his DNA under my fingernails so I could crucify the fucker."

"Ms. Lopez, watch your mouth in my courtroom," the judge warned.

"Sorry, your honor," Santana said, flushing.

"So you said no to him?" the DA asked.

"I said no. Over and over."

"You yelled it?"

"Yes."

"You screamed it, you kicked at him, you scratched him?" '

"Yes."

"So you left no doubt that you were not consenting to his actions?"

"None at all."

"Thank you. Go on, please."

Santana nodded. "I tried to figure out where I was when he pulled me inside, but I couldn't tell. There were no other houses around and we were moving really quickly."

"What happened next, Ms. Lopez?" Richardson asked.

Santana stopped for a moment and closed her eyes. When she opened them, and saw Rachel sitting there smiling at her, she continued.

"He took me upstairs to the bathroom and cuffed me to the towel bar. I tried to pull myself free, but the cuffs were on too tight. Then he took off my clothes and started to wash me. I screamed and spit at him, but he just kept working. He didn't get angry. He just smiled."

Santana stopped and took a long sip of water.

"Go on, Ms. Lopez," Richardson said.

"When he decided I was clean, he took me downstairs and cuffed me to a radiator. Then he took my clothes and put them in the washing machine in the other room."

"Objection," Mr. Lane stood up. "How does she know what he did with the clothes if she was in another room?"

"Your honor, I believe Santana can answer that question," the DA said.

"Go on, then," the judge said.

"I heard the machine. I smelled the detergent. And when he finally let me go, my clothes were clean and folded. It's a logical conclusion," she said, staring daggers at the defense attorney.

"That's good enough for me, Mr. Lane," the judge said. "Continue."

Santana nodded, glancing at Rachel who was sandwiched between Puck and her mother. She nearly grinned when Rachel discreetly blew her a kiss. Leave it to Rachel to know exactly when she felt like she was going to break.

"When he came back into the room, I tried to kick him. Anything to keep him away from me. I tried to head butt him when he got close to me, but he dodged it. Then…he punched me in the stomach, hard and…I couldn't breathe. I couldn't catch my breath."

"Did he say anything to you?" the DA asked.

"He said, 'I like your spirit, but don't make me do that again.'"

"Did he sound angry?" the DA questioned.

"No. He was totally calm…which…made it so much scarier."

"What happened next?"

"He spread my legs and he pushed his fingers inside me," Santana said shakily. She took a moment to glance at the jury. They looked appalled. She looked back to Rachel and her parents, squished in next to the entire glee club. Even Mr. Schuester was there, glaring at White.

"He touched me everywhere, stretching me, hurting me. After a while, he walked away. I thought…maybe it's over. Maybe he's done," she said, unable to stop herself from looking at the defendant. "I just wanted him to be finished with me."

"Was he done?"

"No. He just took his clothes off, put on a condom, and came back over to me. He said I could scream, if I wanted."

"Did you?"

"No. I refused to give him that."

"That must have been very hard for you, Ms. Lopez," the DA said. "Didn't it hurt?"

"Of course it hurt," Santana said, a tear threatening to spill over. "I was a virgin."

"You were a virgin?" Richardson asked.

"I was…until he took that from me."

"So, it hurt, but you didn't scream?" The DA asked.

"No, I'd screamed enough. It wasn't going to do any good and I refused to give him that power."

"Impressive, that kind of will power," Richardson said, pacing a bit in front of the stand. "I don't know if I'd be able to do that."

"I hope you never find out," Santana said.

Richardson smiled, then continued. "So, after he raped you, he let you go?"

"No. He went back into the other room and put my clothes in the drier – No, I didn't see him do this, but I heard the clink of my uniform zipper as it went through the cycle. Then he came back in and raped me two more times."

"So he raped you three times?"

"Yes," Santana said, watching tears fall down Rachel's face. Down of her mother's face. She wished she could wipe them away.

"And then?"

"Then he got dressed, kissed my forehead, told me where my clothes were, and uncuffed me."

"Did you attempt to fight him off again?"

"No…I just…I didn't have the strength. I hadn't been able to fight him off before he raped me…there was no way I'd be strong enough when I was in that much pain."

"So then what happened?"

"I waited until I heard him drive away, then got dressed and left."

"And where did you go?"

"I…really don't know. I walked until I found a street name, then called my friend Brittany's house. Her mom picked up and I just started crying. I couldn't keep it in anymore."

"And then Brittany's mother came to get you?"

"Yeah, they both did. Brittany and her mom, I mean."

"And then they took you to the hospital?"

"Yeah, and then called my parents and the police for me. I thought he'd washed everything off of me, but it turns out they found some of his DNA inside me."

"Objection," Mr. Lane said, standing up. "Ms. Lopez doesn't have the necessary medical knowledge to confirm DNA matches."

"Your honor, Detective Faulkner and Doctor Morales have already testified that the DNA taken during Ms. Lopez's exam matched the DNA of the defendant."

"I'll allow it," the judge said. "But proceed carefully."

"Of course, your honor," Richardson said. "Let's move on. How have things changed for you since your attack?"

"I…I don't know how to answer that," Santana said, tears finally spilling over her cheeks.

"Just answer as best as you can," the DA said calmly.

"I…I felt broken. Like he took something so much more than my virginity. I got scared every time somebody brushed by me at school."

"And that's a departure from the way you felt before the attack?"

"Definitely. I was confident, before. Confident in my ability to take care of myself, to defend myself. People got out of the way when I walked through the hallways."

"And after?" the DA asked.

"I…kept re-thinking everything that happened. If I'd been stronger, or faster maybe I could have fought him off. I didn't feel like I could defend myself against anything, anymore. I still don't."

"What about your personal relationships?" the DA asked.

"It was hard, for a really long time," Santana said. "I flinched every time somebody tried to touch me – even in the most innocent ways – for months. But it got better, day by day. My parents helped me get through so much of the pain. Brittany and her parents, too. I've had an extremely solid network of friends and teachers with me every day."

"Yes, Detective Faulkner already testified that you had an entire group of people with you when you identified the defendant in a line-up."

Santana chuckled. "I tried to tell them I could do it alone, but they wouldn't let me."

"I just have one more question for you, Ms. Lopez," the DA said. "Is the person that attacked and raped you in this room?"

"Yes," Santana said, sitting up straight in her seat.

"For the benefit of the jury, can you point him out for me?"

"It was him," Santana said, looking John White right in the eyes.

"No further questions," the DA said.

"Very well," the judge said. "Your witness, Mr. Lane."


	12. Chapter 12

****I AM SOOOO SORRY! FF went totally nuts and deleted my chapters, so I had to repost them! So sorry that you probably got 1000 emails telling you that I had 15 new chapters up. To make up for it, though, I'm going to post the rest of the fic in its entirety right now. So sorry!****

Mr. Lane smiled and stood up, picking up a pitcher of water from his desk and walking over to the stand to refill Santana's glass.

"You've been through a horrible ordeal, Ms. Lopez," he said, after returning the water to his desk.

"Yes, I have," Santana said, purposefully keeping her answers short and to the point.

"Would it be fair to say, do you think, that it was a traumatic experience?"

"Yes," Santana said, warily.

"Do you have flashbacks to the event of April 12th?"

"Sometimes," Santana replied. How could she not have flashbacks, especially when she had to relive that day over and over again for the trial.

"Did you feel numb, emotionally distant from your peers?"

"Not all the time," Santana said.

"But you do sometimes? Feel emotionally distant, I mean."

"Sometimes," Santana confirmed.

"Have you had any nightmares?" Mr. Lane continued.

"Yes, but wouldn't you have –"

"Thank you, Ms. Lopez," Mr. Lane said, cutting Santana off. "Is it true that you were sent to a trauma psychiatrist?"

"Yes, after I was released from the hospital," Santana said, narrowing her eyes.

"And is it true that you were diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

"Objection," the DA shouted. "The victim cannot testify to somebody else's diagnosis."

"Your honor, the diagnosis was already released to us directly from the trauma psychiatrist who, unfortunately, died in a car accident last month and is therefore obviously absent from court today. Ms. Lopez would only be confirming what the court already knows."

"I'll allow it," the judge said. "You can answer the question, Ms. Lopez."

"Yes," Santana said, closing her eyes for a moment as she took deep, calm breaths. "I was diagnosed with PTSD."

"I'd like to introduce exhibit A," Mr. Lane said, walking to his desk and picking up a piece of laminated paper. "This is a list of symptoms associated with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Ms. Lopez, can you please read the highlighted portion aloud."

Santana took the document, glancing at Rachel to calm her nerves. It didn't really help. "Flashbacks, nightmares, loss of interest in activities, difficulty falling or staying asleep, feeling jumpy and easily startled, and…"

"Go on, Ms. Lopez," Mr. Lane said, smiling.

"Inability to remember important aspects of the trauma."

"Inability to remember important aspects of the trauma," Mr. Lane repeated, facing the jury.

"I remember everything that happened to me," Santana said, her voice strong.

"Did you continue to see a therapist after your alleged attack?"

"No, I only went a few times," Santana said softly.

"So you haven't worked with a professional to come to terms with the events as you disclosed them?"

"No," Santana said.

"There's nobody who might have helped you fill in the blanks, nobody to attest to your continued progress?"

"No, but – "

"So then you really can't say that you remember everything, can you, Ms. Lopez," Mr. Lane said calmly, smiling at the jury. "After all, how would you know if you're forgetting something when, by nature, forgetting means that you don't remember?"

"I remember every single thing," Santana said, sitting forward and speaking directly into the microphone. "I remember throwing up all over myself in the trunk of John White's car. I remember the feeling of his skin underneath my finger nails. I remember the way it burned when he forced himself inside of me. I remember the cracked ribs and bruises all over my body. I remember the fear, the uncertainty, and every single moment of pain from the minute he grabbed me to the second I woke up this morning, terrified to come here and relive this. I haven't blocked anything out. I haven't forgotten anything."

In the front row of the courtroom, Rachel swelled with pride and squeezed Mrs. Lopez's hand. Next to her, Puck beamed.

"I'm not arguing that you don't remember the details, Ms. Lopez," the attorney said. "All I'm saying is that it's possible that you've blocked some things out. Or are you somehow immune to certain symptoms?"

Santana said nothing.

"Ms. Lopez, do you believe that you're physically or emotionally immune to particular symptoms of PTSD?"

"No," Santana said, gritting her teeth.

"Then isn't it possible that you're experiencing loss of memory?"

"I'm not blocking – "

"Ms. Lopez, I'm asking you whether or not it's possible."

"Yes," Santana sighed. "It's possible."

"So, it's possible that the events, as you remember them, might not be accurate?" Mr. Lane asked.

"I'm sorry, let me get this straight," Santana said. "You're asking me if it's possible that I've dreamed up being attacked, beaten, and raped?"

"I'm asking you if it's possible that what actually happened might be different from what you remember. Is it possible that the bruises on your ribs came from the strenuous cheerleading practice that you, yourself, testified to participating in?"

"It's possible, sure," Santana said, seething. "But we don't throw punches in cheerleading?"

"So you've never been accidentally injured in cheerleading?"

"Of course I have, but – "

"That's fine, Ms. Lopez, thank you. You've answered my question," Mr. Lane said, smiling. "I'd like to move on to something else now."

"I'm all ears," Santana said, sitting back in her chair.

"Watch it, Ms. Lopez," the judge warned.

Santana sighed, and nodded, idly wondering when she became the defendant.

"Thank you, your honor," Mr. Lane said, smiling. "Ms. Lopez, are you a lesbian?"

Santana's eyes widened.

"Objection," Richardson yelled. "Relevance?"

"Sustained," the judge said. "Move to a different line of questioning."

Santana stared at him, shell shocked. She knew full well that Lane had expected the objection…he only wanted the jury to suspect she was gay. Rural Ohio, she thought, staring desperately at Rachel. How would that affect the jury's view of her?

"Of course, your honor. Apologies," Lane said, continuing. "You've stipulated that you were a virgin, prior to the events of April 12th?"

"Yes, I was a virgin prior to my _attack_," Santana answered, emphasizing the key word. The word that Lane was actively avoiding.

"But your reputation at school seems to refute that."

"What are you talking about?" Santana asked, sighing. She had been afraid that this was going to come up.

"Isn't it true that you're known as…how did one of your classmates put it…the village bicycle? Everybody gets a ride?"

"Objection!" the DA shouted, pounding her fist on the desk. "I can't even pick a reason! Here say, badgering the witness, take your pick!"

"I'll rephrase," Mr. Lane said. "Santana, are you aware of your reputation as easy at school?"

"I'm aware of the rumors,' Santana said. "But that doesn't make them true."

"No, it certainly does not," Mr. Lane said. "So I assume, then, that you've actively sought to refute these rumors?"

"What do you mean?" Santana asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"If, as you say, the rumors about you aren't true, then you must have taken some action to prove their falseness."

"Not really," Santana replied uneasily.

"No? Why not?"

Santana remained silent, staring at Rachel, praying for help. Rachel just stared back at her, biting her lip.

"Ms. Lopez, answer the question," the judge said.

"I…don't know," Santana said.

"Remember, Santana, you're under oath," Mr. Lane said. "So I'm going to ask again. Why haven't you tried to disprove the rumors about you? Are the rumors true?"

"No, of course not," Santana said, her eyes narrowing. "It's just..."

"Just what, Ms. Lopez?"

"The reputation I have at school makes me popular."

"Appearing to be easy makes you feel popular?" Mr. Lane asked, pacing in front of the stand. "Wanted? Desired, even?"

"I guess so," Santana said, closing her eyes for a moment and praying that he'd finish with her soon. She was so tired.

"And you like to feel desired?"

"Who doesn't like to feel desired," Santana snapped.

"Your honor, permission to treat Ms. Lopez as a hostile witness," Mr. Lane said.

"Granted," the judge said.

"So, Santana, you're okay with boys telling the entire school that they slept with you as long as it makes you feel desired and popular?"

"Having people think that you're a slut doesn't actually make you one," Santana challenged.

"No, it doesn't," Mr. Lane agreed. "What matters to me, though, is that you're okay with people thinking you are."

"There's a big difference," Santana said, sitting up straight.

"A big difference between what and what?"

"I never stopped the rumors because I didn't mind them," Santana said. "I told your client no, I yelled at him, I screamed for him to stop. And he didn't. I have the right – "

"Thank you, Ms. Lopez," Mr. Lane said with a cheerful grin. "I only have one more question."

Santana stared at him.

"Why did you call your friend Brittany after your alleged attack?"

"What do you mean?" Santana asked furiously. "I'd just been beaten and raped. I needed somebody with me."

"Let me rephrase," Mr. Lane said, stepping closer to the stand. "After such a traumatic experience, why didn't you call your parents?"

Santana blinked. "I…they were busy. At work."

"Don't you think your parents would have dropped everything to come to you?"

"Of course, they would have," Santana said, looking at her parents and then back at the defense attorney.

"Then why didn't you call them?"

"I was ashamed," Santana whispered.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Mr. Lane said, cupping his hand around his ear.

"I was ashamed," Santana repeated.

"Ashamed of what?"

"I don't know," Santana said.

"Once again, Santana, I'm going to remind you that you're under oath."

"Okay, alright!" Santana said, snapping. "My parents know about my reputation at school. Lima is a small town, there's nothing I can do about it. I didn't call them because I didn't want them to be disappointed in me!"

"Disappointed? If you were, as you've said, completely victimized…if this alleged attack was one hundred percent forced upon you, why would your parents be disappointed in you?"

"I don't know, but –"

"Is it possible that you're not as innocent as you'd like us to believe?" Mr. Lane asked, raising his voice.

"No, I'm…this wasn't my fault!" Santana shouted.

Mr. Lane simply smiled. "No more questions, your honor."


	13. Chapter 13

After her testimony, Santana and her parents made their way back to the Berry's house for dinner. As soon as they walked into the house, Santana made a beeline for Rachel's bedroom.

"I'll go up with her," Rachel said to all four parents, pausing half way up the stairs. "In all likelihood, we won't be coming down to eat."

"Ok, sweetie," Rachel's father, Irving said. "Take care of her."

"She always does," Mr. Lopez said, smiling sadly as Rachel climbed the stairs.

…

"Can I come in?" Rachel said, knocking softly, gently pushing the door open when she didn't hear anything.

When she walked in, Santana was laying on the bed facing her, staring ahead blankly.

"How're you feeling?' Rachel asked, laying down next to her girlfriend.

"Fine," Santana said, continuing to stare ahead as if Rachel wasn't right in front of her. "Numb."

Rachel nodded. "I can understand that."

"I just want this to be over," Santana said, sighing as she moved to rest her head on Rachel's shoulder.

"I know," Rachel replied, running her fingers through Santana's hair. "It'll be over soon."

"He was right, you know," Santana said quietly, a few moments later.

"Who was right?"

"The lawyer."

"Santana, you cannot possibly believe that anything that…that…slimebag said," Rachel stated, her body tensing up with anger.

Rachel had been afraid of this. She had known the second that she met Mr. Lane in the police station that he was going to fire every weapon he had at Santana. She had watched with such pride as her girlfriend powered through her testimony, reliving the worst day of her life for the thousandth time. Then she watched, helpless, while Santana struggled to maintain composure as Lane battered her with doubts and questions and pointed fingers.

Santana hadn't cracked on the stand. Instead she fought back, challenged everything that Lane said, standing up for herself even under the weight of such brutal accusation. But Rachel had been terrified from the moment they left the courtroom that Santana was simply delaying the pain, that they'd arrive home and Santana would completely fall apart. It'd be completely understandable, obviously, but Santana had come so far, made so much progress. Rachel's body hummed with frustration that one man could conceivably shatter everything that her girlfriend had worked toward.

"He was right about something," Santana said, "About why I never tried to stop those rumors."

"Santana, that man – and I use the term man loosely, by the way – was only trying to cast you in a negative light." Rachel said angrily. "You can't possibly –"

"But he was right about one thing," Santana said calmly, hurrying to continue before Rachel started a tirade. "I never stopped those rumors about me because they meant I was wanted."

"That doesn't mean –"

"Let me finish," Santana said, taking Rachel's hand. "Most girls would deny it if guys like Puck said they had slept together. But I…I liked it. I liked the attention. I liked that I was worthy of bragging about, that I was the person guys thought of when they made up stories about their conquests. So I let the rumors pass. Fuck, sometimes I even encouraged them. But that guy…that asshole lawyer…made it sound like I was asking to get attacked. Like the fact that I let a few rumors go meant that I was down for anything. But that's bullshit. You know it, I know it, and most importantly, the fucking jury knows it. I know you came in here expecting me to be crying, but I'm not sad. I'm pissed."

"Good," Rachel said, her jaw set as a swell of pride bubbled up through her. "Pissed is good."

"I'm going to be okay, you know," Santana said, smiling up at her girlfriend.

"If you can be this calm after the day you've had…I have absolutely no doubts that you'll be just fine," Rachel said, nodding. "Although, this does present a slight setback in my plans for this evening."

"Oh?" Santana said, pressing a kiss to Rachel's cheek. "How so?"

"Well…I prepared a brief presentation on why Mr. Lane's line of questioning was completely erroneous and then set aside forty-seven minutes to comfort you before bringing you dinner in bed," Rachel said, furrowing her eyebrows. "But apparently you don't need comforting."

Santana blinked for a moment then, unable to stop herself, she burst out laughing.

"Santana, while I understand that you're in a fragile emotional state right now, I would advise you to stop laughing at me," Rachel said, her eyes narrowing.

Santana just laughed harder.

"I'm warning you…" Rachel said, her eyes darkening.

"Why, what are you going to do?" Santana said, still giggling. "Wait, wait, tell me why through PowerPoint."

"That's it!" Rachel said with a grin as she pounced on her girlfriend, reaching to tickle her.

Which was when she saw panic flash briefly against Santana's face.

"Shit, Santana, I'm sorry," Rachel said, hurrying to move away and falling off the bed in the process.

"Rachel, calm down," Santana said, taking a deep breath. "It's okay."

"You just weren't…you seemed okay, and I…I didn't think. I just – "

"Seriously, Rach, I'm fine," Santana said, moving to help Rachel up from the floor. "You just startled me, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

"Rachel, it's going to take a lot more than a sneak tickle attack to propel me into a downward spiral of terror."

Rachel nodded, sitting back down on the bed.

"I'm sorry I laughed at you," Santana said, laying back down and pulling Rachel with her.

"I still don't see what was so funny," Rachel huffed.

"You're just so cute," Santana said, smiling against Rachel's shoulder.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I mean, you thought up a Comfort Santana Itinerary…that's the sweetest thing anybody's ever done for me."

"And that's funny how?"

"Well…I mean, Rach…it's kind anal retentive."

"Santana Lopez, I was trying to ensure that you were emotionally stable after the long and difficult day you've had! The least you could do is not make fun of me!" Rachel whined.

"I know, baby, I'm sorry," Santana said, giggling.

"But you kept laughing…"

"Well, you threatened me," Santana said. "It was adorable."

"I'm not adorable," Rachel said. "I'm tough."

"Of course you are," Santana said, holding Rachel tighter. "Now, come on tough guy. Let's go get some dinner. Mama Lopez is cooking."

Rachel nodded, briefly squeezing Santana around the waist before standing up.

"Wait a minute," Rachel said, a look of abject horror on her face. "Does your mother cook like…you?"

"I know what you're implying and I don't like it," Santana said, narrowing her eyes as she walked out of the room.

"It wasn't really an implication," Rachel mumbled as she followed, hesitating before she walked into the kitchen, half expecting it to be burnt to the ground.

…

After dinner – which was actually incredible - the girls said goodnight to their parents as Rachel's fathers set up the guest bedroom. Mr. and Mrs. Lopez wouldn't leave their daughter, and Rachel was practically attached to Santana's side, so it just made sense for them to stay with the Berry's for the night.

When Rachel came in from the bathroom after washing up, Santana was curled on the bed, moving up and down with silent sobs.

"Oh, sweetie," Rachel said, her heart breaking a little as she rushed over to Santana and began rubbing circles on her back. "What's going on?"

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Santana whispered, the tears flowing freely. "I was fine a second ago."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Rachel said softly. "You've had an impossible day, what you're feeling right now is totally normal."

"How do you know?" Santana asked.

"Because I'm Rachel Berry. I know everything."

Santana laughed, sitting up slightly as she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

"Seriously, Santana. You're confused, upset, angry, overwhelmed, and probably exhausted. You can't expect yourself to handle all of that without letting some of it out. You may be the strongest person I've ever met, but you're also human."

Santana smiled and nodded.

"Now come on, let's get you out of these clothes and into bed," Rachel said, pulling Santana up until she was seated on the bed.

Bending over, Rachel grasped Santana's left foot, pulled off her sock and softly kissed her ankle. After she repeated with the other foot, Rachel leaned forward, gripped Santana's sweater, and slowly lifted it off before gently brushing her lips against Santana's neck. Then she reached down and unbuttoned Santana's pants, pressing a kiss to Santana's abdomen as she waited for her girlfriend to lift her hips.

"You make me feel so loved," Santana said, wonder in her eyes.

"You are loved," Rachel replied, smiling as she shifted slightly to grab the pajamas she had laid out for Santana. "Lift your arms."

Instead of lifting her arms over her head, though, Santana reached out and threaded her fingers in Rachel's hair.

Rachel paused and sat back on her knees, closing her eyes for a moment to enjoy the feeling.

"I…don't know what I would have done without you," Santana said, leaning forward and resting her forehead on Rachel's.

"You would have been fine," Rachel said. "You have a bigger support network than you realize."

"Sure, I would have been fine," Santana said, lifting Rachel's chin so that their eyes met. "But I wouldn't have been good. Somehow, even with all of the fear and anger, I'm happier than I've ever been. You make me happier than I've ever been. And, apparently, a lot mushier too."

Rachel laughed. "I like you mushy."

Santana smiled, then brushed her lips against Rachel's, sighing as Rachel leaned forward slightly to meet her.

The kiss was slow, Rachel's lips sliding languidly against Santana's.

Gently, Santana took the nightshirt that Rachel was still clutching and placed it on the floor. Then, as she moved to the other side of the bed, Santana reached behind her and undid the clasp on her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her underwear followed shortly after.

"Santana," Rachel said, her voice dripping with desire as Santana lay down on the bed. "This…we don't have to do this. Just because we did last night doesn't mean that you need to feel obligated and you've had a difficult –"

"Rachel," Santana said, cutting her off. "I just…I want you."

"Are you sure?" Rachel said, laying down on her side next to Santana.

Santana smiled, then tangled her hands in Rachel's hair and brought their lips back together.

"Good answer," Rachel mumbled between kisses, enjoying the feeling of Santana smiling against her lips.

They stayed like that for a long time, lips brushing against each other, tongues lazily dancing, fingertips wandering. Santana sighed when Rachel began to kiss down her neck, across her collarbone, and between her breasts, her breath hitching when Rachel wrapped her lips around her nipple.

"That feels so good," Santana said, closing her eyes against the pleasure.

"That's the goal," Rachel replied softly, before moving to the other breast.

After a moment, Rachel slowly made her way down, trailing the tip of her tongue to the underside of Santana's breasts, zig zagging across her stomach savoring the feeling of Santana's muscles tensing under her lips.

When she brushed her lips against the quickly dampening curls at the apex of Santana's thighs, Santana's legs pressed together.

Rachel backed off immediately, looking up at her girlfriend.

"I'm okay," Santana said, her chest heaving. "I'm just…I've never done this before."

"Neither have I," Rachel said, smiling. "But we don't have to…if you're not ready for it."

"No, I mean…I want to," Santana said, licking her lips. "Believe me, I want to. I just needed a second."

"Is that second over now?" Rachel asked, smirking.

"Um…yes?" Santana said, her heart rate picking up.

"Okay then," Rachel replied, brushing her fingers along Santana's thighs. Gradually, Santana's legs loosened again and Rachel slowly bent them at the knee before laying down on her stomach.

She pressed a kiss to the inside of Santana's left thigh, nipping and sucking lightly. She felt Santana's breath quicken as she repeated the process on the other thigh.

"Rachel," Santana whimpered.

"Yes?"

"I need you…stop teasing me."

"As you wish," Rachel replied. "But your parents are just across the hall, and soundproofed though this room is, you'll need to keep the decibel of your screams to a minimum if you don't want them to walk in."

Santana was literally in the middle of rolling her eyes when she felt the tip of Rachel's tongue against her. The laugh that had been building at Rachel's concept of bedroom talk died in her throat as her mouth fell open.

"Oh…god," Santana whispered, her hips involuntarily beginning to roll against Rachel's mouth.

Rachel hadn't really known what to expect when she had ventured down there. She briefly thought it might be weird, taste weird, smell weird, so she was tentative at first, swiping her tongue across Santana's clit and then leaning back for a moment to process the taste. It was…great. Amazing, even. So she became bolder, flattening her tongue against her girlfriend's entrance and slowly dragging it to the nub that was becoming increasingly swollen.

"_Dios mio_, Rach…are you sure you've never done this before?" Santana panted, a strangled cry escaping her lips as Rachel wrapped her lips around her clit.

"You're the first," Rachel said, pressing a quick kiss to Santana's clit between each word, smirking when her girlfriend's hips jumped.

Santana propped herself up on her elbows, watching through a haze of pleasure as Rachel's head bobbed between her legs. It was by far the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. She breathed deeply, gasping as her eyes fluttered closed every few seconds.

When she felt Rachel's teeth close around her clit, Santana's arms gave out and she fell backwards, arching off the bed as she tangled her hands in Rachel's hair and held her in place.

"God, god, god, don't stop," Santana groaned, tugging at Rachel's hair, her hips rocketing up and down as her feet dug into the bed, her toes curling desperately.

Rachel smiled against her, bringing her hand up under her chin and gently circling Santana's entrance with her finger before slowly pushing it in.

Santana's hands flew to the bedpost behind her; she gripped it tightly, using it to grind down harder, chanting Rachel's name over and over.

After a few moments, Rachel added another finger, curling them each time she swiped her tongue across her girlfriend's clit.

Santana was shaking, biting the fleshy part of her arm to keep from screaming. The pleasure was building up inside of her at an alarming rate, white hot and ready to burst.

"So close," she whimpered between clenched teeth.

"Come for me," Rachel said, biting down on Santana's clit as she curled her fingers ruthlessly.

"God!" Santana moaned, her eyes snapping shut, her arms grabbing at the bedpost, then the sheets, then Rachel's hair.

Slowly, Rachel worked her down, circling Santana's clit until she began to twitch uncomfortably.

"God," Santana repeated, gasping for air as she finally went limp on the bed. "That was…god, I can't even breathe."

"I aim to please," Rachel said, climbing over her girlfriend and gently lowering herself on the bed next to her. "That was amazing."

"You're telling me," Santana choked out.

"I…I really didn't expect you to want that, not after the day you've had," Rachel asked, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend's cheek. "But you're…you're okay?"

"Better than," Santana said. Sure, she had been freaked out for a little bit, but that was more because it was a new experience than it was about panic. She smiled, a deep breath of relief tumbling out when she realized that.

"You taste so good," Rachel said softly, tracing Santana's bottom lip with her tongue. "Want to taste?"

"I'd rather taste you," Santana said with a smirk, her breathing finally evening out as she pulled Rachel's lip into her mouth.

Rachel smiled against the kiss. "Come and get it then," she whispered, laying flat on her back and spreading her legs wide open.

Santana's eyes widened, her heart nearly stopping at Rachel's boldness. Oh, she was going to get it, all right.

"You're fucking sexy, you know that?" Santana whispered, rolling over and brushing her lips just below Rachel's ear.

"So I've been told," Rachel said, sighing happily.

"Yeah?" Santana asked, trailing kisses down Rachel's neck and across her collarbone as she skimmed her fingertips up and down her side. "By who?"

"You mean whom," Rachel mumbled, jerking when Santana brought her hand to her breast.

"You're making fun of my grammar?" Santana asked with a smirk as she rolled Rachel's nipple between her fingers.

"I…I don't know," Rachel panted, her hips beginning to roll, ever so slightly.

"I think you are," Santana whispered, pinching the nipple harshly as she moved to straddle her girlfriend's waist.

"God," Rachel groaned. "I'll keep making fun of you if this is what I get for it."

Santana chuckled, then brought her lips down to replace her fingers, her tongue tracing circles, painfully slow circles.

Rachel was so turned on that she could barely think. She felt the sweat beginning to seep up through her pores just as the wetness between her legs was pooling. She knew Santana wanted to take her time, that she felt safest when she was in control, but honestly, Rachel was about to crawl out of her skin. She dug her nails into Santana's sides, tensing and flexing them with each movement of Santana's mouth against her.

"S, I need…you to touch me," Rachel said, licking her lips, which were suddenly bone dry.

Santana nodded, her entire body overcome with love for this girl, this girl that always gave herself so freely, that always understood so completely what to do, and what not to do, to make Santana feel safe.

She leaned forward, capturing Rachel in a kiss so gentle, so delicious that Rachel lost herself in it. The ache between her legs fell to the background as Santana's lips slid against hers, as their tongues moved together slowly.

That was, at least, until Santana trailed her hand down Rachel's abdomen and slipped two fingers inside of her.

Rachel's broke the kiss with a groan, her fingers fisting in Santana's hair as her eyes fluttering closed.

"Open your eyes," Santana whispered, kissing her cheek. "I want you to watch."

With great difficulty, Rachel complied, her pupils blown out as Santana moved inside of her slowly and deliberately.

"I love you so much," Santana said, savoring the way Rachel's breath hitched when she curled her fingers.

Santana rolled her hips, pushing her fingers in deeper as Rachel arched beneath her.

"You're…killing me," Rachel whimpered, her eyes locked with Santana's, when she felt her girlfriend's thumb on her clit.

"You saved me," Santana said, panting as she moved against Rachel.

Rachel smiled, moving to cup the back of Santana's neck with one hand, the other flexing on Santana's hip, urging her on.

All of a sudden, Santana removed her fingers.

"What…what are…baby –"

"I told you," Santana said with a smirk. "I want to taste you."

Rachel's eyes widened as Santana shimmied downward, trailing hot kisses down her abdomen. She wanted to tell her that she didn't have to, but as Santana lifted her legs over her shoulders, the protest died in her mouth.

Santana didn't waste any time; there were no lingering kisses to Rachel's thighs, no cool air gently blown between Rachel's legs, just a tongue sliding up and down, just lips wrapping and circling and sucking. Santana groaned as Rachel's wetness coated her tongue; she tasted incredible. For Santana, Rachel was the stuff addictions were made of.

Rachel's whole body tensed, a strangled cry escaping her lips as her feet dug into Santana's back.

"Oh my god," she whimpered, her hips beginning to roll feverishly under Santana's mouth. "Jesus, God!"

Santana's fingers were back inside of her just as quickly as they had disappeared moments before. Rachel let out a deep, guttural groan, her hands shaking as the grabbed the sheets next to her. She could feel herself getting close, so close, with every flick of Santana's tongue, every painfully slow curl of her fingers.

"God, I love you," Rachel cried, her hands flying to fist in Santana's hair. "I love you so much."

Santana grinned and began moving faster. She added another finger and gave several sharp bites to Rachel's clit, groaning as Rachel's hips jerked underneath her.

"So close," Rachel whimpered as she let go of Santana's hair with one hand to desperately reach for a pillow. "So fucking close."

Santana wrapped her lips around Rachel's clit and, with a few more thrusts, Rachel came, screaming into the pillow and riding Santana's tongue through each aftershock.

"God," Rachel breathed, as Santana kissed her way back up to Rachel's lips. "Jesus Christ."

"Santana will do just fine, thanks."

"Noted," Rachel said, laughing weakly.

"I love you too, you know," Santana whispered, gently nipping Rachel's earlobe.

"I know," Rachel said, smiling as her breathing began to even out. "But you need to stop doing or we'll wind up starting something that neither of us can finish."

"Who says I can't finish?"

"Santana, your eyes are already closing."

"I'm not tired," Santana said mid-yawn as she rolled over and wrapped her arm around Rachel's waist.

"I know, baby," Rachel said, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend's forehead. "But let's sleep. For me."

"For you," Santana mumbled, as she drifted off.

Rachel knew Santana slept best when she was completely exhausted and hoped to God that she had done her job well enough. As she felt her own eyes flutter shut, she snuggled into her girlfriend, praying that she found peace tonight.

Tomorrow, they'd hear the closing arguments.


	14. Chapter 14

*****Guys, the end is here! Thank you so much for sticking with me throughout all this. I hope you've enjoyed reading my story, and that - at least once in a while - it has made you smile. Please comment and let me know what you think, now that it's all done. And again, thank you so much for reading.*****

"On April 12th, 2009, Santana Lopez was walking home from school," DA Richardson said, standing still as she addressed the jury. "After dropping off her best friend, a complete stranger – John White – grabbed her from behind and shoved into the trunk of his car. He took her to a remote location, cleaned her, and raped her repeatedly. He then attempted to remove every trace of the attack – proving that his actions were pre-meditated – before completely disappearing."

In the front row of the courtroom, Santana sat between her parents. She was sick and tired of constantly feeling like she was about to fall off of a cliff.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw Santana shaking. With a sad sigh, she reached over Mrs. Lopez's lap and gripped Santana's hand. Mrs. Lopez smiled and placed her right hand on top of Rachel and Santana's. Mr. Lopez did the same. From the row behind them, Santana felt Brittany's soft, feminine hand on her left shoulder, then Puck's rough one on her right shoulder.

"It's going to be okay," Quinn whispered, leaning forward. "We'll take care of you. And if he isn't convicted, I'll stick Puck on him."

Santana's lip quirked up slightly as the tears began to fall silently down her cheek.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this has gone beyond the realm of accusation, beyond a simple 'He said, she said,'" the DA continued, walking slowly to one end of the jury, and then to the other. "Indeed, this chain of events is _fact_; you've heard testimony from the detectives and the forensics team responsible for this case that indisputably places Ms. Lopez in the trunk of Mr. White's car. You've seen the photographic evidence of the bruises that Ms. Lopez sustained after the attack. You've heard testimony from the doctors that performed her exam, testimony that attests to non-consensual intercourse and that matches John White's DNA to the samples collected from Ms. Lopez during her examination. You've heard Ms. Lopez's personal account of the most horrific day of her life; you've listened, in detail, to what she went through when John White abducted and brutalized her. What you haven't heard, however, is testimony from the accused. You haven't heard Mr. White tell you that he hasn't done anything wrong, explain a potential misunderstanding, offer an alternative chain of events. Certainly, Mr. White has the right to remain silent, to refuse to incriminate himself, and to refrain from committing perjury. Certainly, we don't know if that's the case here. But I'm sure you're wondering, like I am, why Mr. Lane hasn't called his client to the stand."

Santana watched as the members of the jury shifted in their chairs. She thought she saw a few of them nod, but she just couldn't be sure.

"Ladies and gentlemen, one of the pitfalls of my profession is that I have to continuously place myself in the position of my clients. The experiences that they've had, more often than not, are overwhelmingly terrifying and it's my job to imagine myself going through them. It's not easy, and it's painful. But, for just a moment, I'd like to ask you to do the same. Ladies, imagine yourself back in high school. Gentlemen, imagine your mothers, your grandmothers, your wives, your sisters, your daughters. Imagine them in the place of Ms. Lopez, walking home from school, being kidnapped, beaten, and violently raped."

Santana gripped Rachel's hand as the DA continued, making eye contact with each member of the jury.

"I'd like to say that I, myself, would have the courage that Ms. Lopez has shown in testifying against Mr. White, in reliving the worst day of her life, and in facing the battering accusations from the defense. But, honestly, I don't know if I could. And I hope I never find out. I hope none of you ever find out. Ladies and gentlemen, this case – unlike most things in life – does not have a grey area. It is completely black and white. Living Ms. Lopez's experience, even for a moment, gave me a great deal of clarity and I sincerely hope that it gives you the same. Convict John White of kidnapping. Convict him of rape. Help me get John White off of the street, away from your mothers, your grandmothers, your wives, your sisters, your daughters. Away from you."

After waiting for a beat, the DA walked back to her table and sat down. "Your honor, the prosecution rests."

"Your closing statements, Mr. Lane," the judge said.

"Thank you, your honor," Mr. Lane said, standing and smiling at Santana before making his way over to the jury.

Santana felt the anger bubbling up inside of her and glanced at Rachel. The tips of her girlfriend's ears were bright red, her eyebrows furrowed in pure, unadultered hatred. It was kind of cute, actually.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I hope you're enjoying the show so far," Mr. Lane said, grinning.

"What a douchebag," Mr. Schuester whispered behind Santana's parents.

"That's one thing we can agree one, William," Coach Sylvester whispered..

Santana almost laughed.

"We've all heard Ms. Lopez's testimony," Mr. Lane continued. "I'm not a monster – the story that Ms. Lopez told is heartbreaking, truly, and I don't doubt that she went through something traumatic on the day of April 12th, 2009. No, I'm certainly not arguing that. I am, however, stipulating that a grey area does, in fact, exist in this situation. Ms. Lopez is a troubled young lady. She admitted to allowing rumors of her sexual exploits to continue unchecked – she liked the attention, she told us so herself."

"I want to roll over that guy's nuts," Artie whispered.

"Me too," Kurt replied.

"Me three," Puck said.

"Later," Mercedes whispered back.

"In a small town like this, rumors don't often stay within the boundaries of high school," Mr. Lane continued. "Yes, John White did engage Ms. Lopez, but he didn't do it in a vacuum. He had heard the same rumors that Ms. Lopez's classmates heard, the same rumors that she herself encouraged. He found her, and he approached her. He called to her, and she ignored him."

Santana felt all of the color drain from her face. She wanted to stand up and shout, scream that Lane was lying.

"She didn't tell you this, because she doesn't remember it. And that is completely understandable. Ms. Lopez went through a trauma; or, rather, she believes that she went through a trauma. After the alleged attack, Ms. Lopez saw a therapist – a professional with thirty years of experience that promptly diagnosed her with PTSD. And, as we all know, memory loss is a potential symptom of PTSD. Children block out memories of abuse, soldiers block out memories of war – all in a subconscious effort to allow themselves a chance to function in normal society. If a trauma such as the one that Ms. Lopez described truly happened, it would be reasonable, even expected, for her memory to erase details…details, perhaps, that might make her more accountable for the events that took place. She wants to believe it is all her attacker's fault, so that's what her memory is showing her. It's possible."

"I'm going to roll Artie over that guy's nuts," Finn said.

"I'm going to watch," Tina whispered.

"And laugh," Mike agreed.

"You'll have to beat me there," Rachel whispered, turning slightly to face her friends. "And I have four inch stilettos on. Rolling won't be necessary."

"It's possible," Mr. Lane repeated. "Ms. Lopez is a troubled girl with a history of lying about her sexual experiences. It's possible that she's doing the same now. And it's possible that she simply isn't remembering what actually happened. Ms. Richardson's job was to prove to you, _beyond a reasonable doubt_, that Mr. White attacked Ms. Lopez without any provocation, without any reason. Personally, I don't think she did. But it's not up to me, it's up to you. I'd say that there's a reasonable doubt that this case is more of a grey area than Ms. Richardson would like to admit. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, acquit my client. Uphold justice. Your honor, the defense rests."

Mike and Finn had to hold Puck down in his chair when Mr. Lane walked past them to sit down.

"Very well," the judge said. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you are excused to deliberate."

…

The entire Glee club, plus most of the Glee club parents, were in the court cafeteria a few hours later when the Bailiff came in to tell them that the jury had made a decision.

"That was quick," Santana said, biting her nails as she walked back to the court room.

"I'm confident that the jury made its decision so quickly because the right path was so glaringly obvious. Right, Ms. Richardson?"

The DA nodded. "Let's hope so."

…

Back in the courtroom, the judge tapped her gavel. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a decision?"

"We have, your honor," The foreman, a fifty-something man with graying hair, said.

As the Bailiff took a white piece of paper from the foreman and handed it to the judge, Santana felt her heart rattling against her ribcage.

"I'm scared," she whispered to Rachel, who was now sitting next to her.

"I know," Rachel said, squeezing her girlfriend's hand. "Me too."

The judge read the paper, handed it to the Bailiff to deliver back to the foreman.

"And what say you?"

Santana took a deep breath.

"In the matter of the State of Ohio v. John White…"

Everything seemed to be going in slow motion.

"We find the defendant…"

Santana closed her eyes and gripped Rachel's hand.

"Guilty of all charges."

Santana vaguely heard Rachel scream next to her, felt her friends gripping at her shoulders, her arms, felt her mother's tears as they cascaded down her neck.

"Santana, baby, it's over," Rachel said after a moment, sitting down next to her girlfriend.

"It is?" Santana said, finally opening her eyes. One huge tear fell from her eyelashes. "It's over?"

"Yes," Rachel said, her heart shattering and expanding at the same time. "He's going away for a long, long time. You did it."

Santana nodded and stood up. She wasn't upright for more than a few seconds before her legs gave out and she fell backwards onto the bench, holding her head between her knees as sobs wracked her body.

Brittany and Quinn simultaneously jumped over the bench and rubbed Santana's back as Rachel whispered in her ear.

"Let it all out, baby," Rachel said. "It's over."

Once Santana had calmed down a bit, she grabbed her parents and hugged them fiercely. Then, as the rest of the people filed out of the courtroom, she walked over to the DA and Detective Faulkner and did the same.

"Thank you so much," she whispered in their ears.

Before they could respond, Santana felt a tap on her back. She turned around just in time to see the Bailiff dragging John White out of the court room and into custody.

"Ms. Lopez, congratulations," Mr. Lane said. "No hard feelings, I hope?"

Santana felt Detective Faulkner's grip tighten on her arm. Unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on how she chose to look at it – none of them saw Rachel launch herself at Mr. Lane soon enough. Luckily for Rachel, another detective grabbed her before she did any real damage, but not before she landed a solid punch to Lane's face.

"Did you see that?" Lane said, clutching his nose. "She attacked me!"

The judge shook her head and left the courtroom.

Everybody was silent.

"Didn't see a thing," Faulkner finally said.

"Me either," Artie said, jovially, as he rolled over Lane's foot.

"Come on!" Lane yelled, hopping on his unharmed foot.

"Oh look, I dropped my pencil," Puck said, crouching down on the ground. "I better get it."

As he stood back up, he brought his forearm up, hard, between Lane's legs.

Lane let out a squeak, then doubled over on the floor.

"Don't worry, Mr. Lane," Santana said, bending down in front of the attorney. "No hard feelings. For a while, I'd imagine."

"Well done, Lopez," Coach Sylvester said, grinning ear to ear.

"Okay, that's enough," Faulkner said, leading everybody out of the courtroom. "Rachel, Artie, Puck…let's talk about community service, shall we?"

In a manner of minutes, Santana's life was infinitely less complicated. Yes, she was still damaged and she would be for a long time.

But whenever she felt herself start to panic, whenever the stress became too much, she reached out to Rachel, to her parents, to her friends. She had a network now, a network that she was no longer too proud to accept.

And, when all else failed, Santana thought of Rachel – her very own flying diva – as she leapt at Mr. Lane. And then she laughed. Every time.


	15. Chapter 15

Hey guys,

I'm sorry to disappoint – this isn't a new chapter. Like a lot of the authors on this site, I'm saddened to understand that FF (dot) net has begun stripping stories with any MA content – sexual, violence, trauma, etc.

Aside from being blatantly disrespectful of people's artistic work, it's also unreasonably ridiculous. These stories are for fun at the simplest of times and, at the most complicated of times, can be a vehicle for people to work out some of their own issues. If readers have an issue with the content, then another story is just a click away.

They can even put more protective layers (a la livejournals adult content notice). There are so many steps in between having rampant mature content and complete censorship.

If you, like me, are completely opposed to this, go to change (dot) org and search for FF (dot) net. Sign the petition at the top (the one with the most signed people). We're close to hitting our goal of 25,000.

Help us make sure that they don't destroy our work.

- Relvox


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